


A Frosty Touch of Love

by Brookeks



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Mick, Blacksmith!Mick, Canon-Typical Violence, Cisco Is the New DaVinci, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy setting, Inspired by Frozen (2013), King Barry, M/M, Mick Plays Matchmaker, Mick and Barry Are Besties, Minor Eddie Thawne/Iris West, True Love's Kiss, more like aroace Mick, use of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 03:54:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15452808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brookeks/pseuds/Brookeks
Summary: Prince Barry of the Central Kingdom is recently engaged and to be crowned King. But when on the day of his coronation in the middle of summer his country suddenly sinks in a deep winter, the fate of his kingdom is at stake, and he has to embark on a journey to find the mysterious Winter King, a powerful being controlling the seasons. On his way, feelings he has tried to suppress come to light, and so does the identity of the Winter King, who is closer to Barry than he’d ever thought possible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kranberry1997](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kranberry1997/gifts).



> Hey, you guys! This is my gift for this year's Coldflash Gift Exchange, created for [kflo1997](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kflo1997). The prompt I chose was:
> 
> _A make good of the frozen au. Does Len have ice powers and Barry’s true love melts his frozen heart? Do Len and Barry have to travel to save Iris or Lisa or what the heck, Mick, from somehow destroying the kingdom? Is it modern day second generation (like a Disney Descendants or Ever After High situation)?_
> 
> I've got to say, though, all five of your prompts were amazing, and I had a hard time choosing which one I'd take. But, to be honest, I've always wanted to create a Frozen AU for this ship. I really hope you'll like what I came up with, even though it might not exactly be what you had in mind.

He couldn’t quite place what it was that tickled his consciousness, forcing him to wake up. It was either the large branch of seaweed that was softly winding around his ankle, or the sing-song voice of the mermaid down in the dark depths of the water—

“Bartholomew Henry Allen!”

—or it was Iris, pounding loudly at his door, and screaming at the top of her lungs, loud enough to awake even those with the deepest sleep.

With a start, Barry sat up in his bed. The room was blurry, and for a few moments, he didn’t know where he was. One second ago, he had been swimming in the cool water, but now the heat surrounding him was suffocating.

“ _Baaaaaaaaarryyyyyyyyyyy_!”

He blinked, rubbing his eyes. His brain took some time to come online. Absently, he registered that the heat surrounding him wasn’t, in fact, a volcano, like his hazy mind had supplied, but the beams of sunlight filtering in the room, and his blanket wrapped tightly around him.

 _Boom, boom, boom_.

“Honestly, that is not how I expected my return home to go down,” Iris huffed in an annoyed fashion.

Wait a second—

“Iris!” Barry yelled, jumping out of his bed and raced to the door, tearing it open. A young, beautiful woman nearly fell inside, looking a little confused but pleased at the same time.

Barry wrapped her in his arms and gave her a tight hug. (Well. Probably a bone-crushing hug.) “Iris! I can’t believe you’re here! We’ve missed you so, so much!”

“Now that is how I expected the greeting to go.” She hugged him back just as tightly before she pulled away to hold him at arm’s length, giving him a scrutinizing once-over. “Look at you. Have you grown even more? And how handsome you are!”

“I just got up, I must look like a mess.”

“Hm, yes, your hair does. What kind of birds have nested in it this week?”

Barry smacked her lightly on the shoulder, but Iris just laughed, throwing her head back in glee.

“Ahh. It’s good to be back. I missed being here.”

Here, meaning the castle where the King of the Central Kingdom reigned. Ever since Iris got engaged to Prince Edward of the Southern Isles, she had been spending more and more time at their palace, especially now that their wedding was only a few weeks away and the preparations were running at full speed.

“We missed you, too. Have you seen your father yet?”

“Not yet. I thought I’d surprise him by bringing him his tea instead of his maid.” She followed him inside his chambers, from where he walked towards the bathroom to make sure he looked like a human being before showing up in the dining hall for breakfast.

“As long as he doesn’t have a heart attack,” he laughed.

Iris just waved her hand dismissively. “Nah, Dad will be fine. Besides, in a few weeks, he can finally retire.”

“Oh. Yeah.” The joy that filled him upon seeing his best friend again ebbed away as he thought about why she was here at all.

The coronation. Of course. The reason Iris would come at all and interrupt her meticulous wedding planning.

In less than a month, the day Barry dreaded the most would come at last. He knew there was no way he could escape it, knew ever since he was born that one day, he’d have to step up and take his place on the throne—the throne as King of the Central Kingdom, one of the largest and most flourishing kingdoms in the east of the Great Divide. When he was little, he had always pictured to be married already, with a wife by his side, and maybe a little child running around, the heritage saved. He had expected his father to give him the royal regalia when he’d been stepping down to enjoy the last few years with his wife in peace, while their son ruled the country.

Those hopes had been lost quite early on. At the moment, King Joseph was the one in charge, Iris’s father and the man who had raised Barry since he had been nine years old. Since his parents had died.

“Hey.” Iris touched his arm gently, looking at him with soft eyes. “I know it’s much. Especially now. But I know you can do it. You’ve been born to do great things.”

Barry just shrugged and turned towards the door, undressing and redressing on his way out of the chambers. “How about we bring Joe his morning tea? And then we can have breakfast together, just the three of us. You could update us on how the big wedding’s going.”

“Oh, don’t get me started.” So she started to explain the troubles they had in order to find the best baker, because apparently Eddie didn’t do too well with dairy products, and there were barely any bakers worth their money who could procure a decent wedding cake without adding milk or the like.

 

***

 

When Barry was sixteen, he had to embark on the journey to the Whispering Caves, just like any crown prince or princess had to do the full moon after their sixteenth birthday. It was an, admittedly, old tradition, and most only did it for that sake—tradition. Few kings or queens even believed in the magic that was the Caves themselves, and even fewer believed in the prophecies the whispers told them.

But Barry always had an affinity for everything unusual. So it was no surprise he had been sleepless the month before he embarked on his journey, too excited to sleep, thinking about the endless possibilities the Caves might hold for him, spending hours in the library, until even his best friend Cisco told him he was off his rockers.

Cisco might be the only one spending even more time with his nose buried in his books, and his hand simultaneously scribbling down things on rolls over rolls on parchment. Barry understood most of them, but when it came to developing a method to make light without using oil and gas lamps and, of course, fire, he was lost. Cisco was a genius like that.

When the day of his journey had finally come, Barry hadn’t slept at all that night, too excited and anxious at the same time.

The journey had been long and tiring, and Barry barely managed to get there before nightfall. Once inside, he wasn’t allowed to leave the Cave until the sun rose again the next morning. There had been a few who had, despite what they were told, left, and it was generally perceived as a bad omen, both for them and for their future reign.

Also, all those who seek answers from the Caves mustn’t eat or drink the entire day, only when the sun rose again the next morning.

Barry had arrived, totally exhausted, and had finally collapsed in the circular space in the heart of the Caves. Sleep came fast and easily, even though the moon bathed everything in its bright light.

The accounts of what people saw when they closed their eyes, which form the magic took, was most unusual and vastly differing for each person.

For Barry, it had taken the form of his mother.

He nearly had started crying right there and then, the ache of seeing her again seven years later, when everything he'd had left were memories and one painting, looking so beautiful and _alive_ had broken his heart. And yet, she was, and wasn’t Nora. Her hair was the same dark red, but it flowed behind her ethereally, a breeze twirling it in the windless cave. Her skin was glowing, but it was too pale to be real.

Barry had sat there, kneeling, resisting the urge to try and touch her, knowing it was no good anyway and all he’d get to grab would be air.

“My sweet child,” she had said, her voice echoing in the tunnel. “You have been so strong. So brave.”

Barry had sobbed. “I don’t know about brave.”

Nora had smiled, and a single tear had escaped Barry’s eyes. “You are. I can see it in your heart.” She extended her hand, softly caressing his cheek, the barest hint of a touch.

“Great tasks will lie ahead of you. You will face great danger, and betrayal of one of those closest to you.”

“Betrayal? From who?”

She smiled and continued without answering. “Your skills will be tested, as well as your loyalty.”

Barry had known better than to ask for an explanation this time.

“ _Fear not the frost,_  
_For it will be your greatest ally._  
_In a lightning strike, uniting what was long separated,_  
_By the man who does not know._  
_And peace will finally come_  
_When the devil shows his true face._

“Be careful, my child, and listen to your heart.”

“Wait—!”

But Nora had glided away, her image growing fainter and fainter until she had disappeared entirely.

The weeks after that, Barry had ponded over what the prophecy meant. He came to no solid answer, and at some point, both Joe and Iris had lost their patience, telling him to stop worrying over something that may ornot even be relevant one day. And anyway, it was just something a ghost in his dreams had told him. Nothing to be taken seriously.

So he had let it go, pushed back and out of his mind until the words were nearly forgotten.

But only nearly.

 

***

 

“So,” Barry asked, swirling the mug in his hands and carefully trying to avoid any eye contact, “what are your plans for today?” He had taken a break from the preparations, and anyway, it was still two weeks until the coronation. They were nearly done and for the rest, there was still enough time.

So he had wandered off into town again, visiting Grandma Esther (Joe’s mother and Iris’s grandmother who, despite her son being the current king, had insisted on living in her own house), then spend some time at Cisco’s, helping him with some project.

Currently, Cisco was helping the royal tailors in sewing Barry’s robes for the coronation, and because Cisco was a perfectionist, he didn’t trust them one bit to get the job done.

“They’re messing up all my designs,” he complained. “I told them I wanted to have tiny little lightning bolts along the shoulder padding, as an accentuation, you see, and because of your accident—and they just ignore it!”

“Really, Cisco, you don’t need to put so much effort into something I’ll only wear once in my life. I could have just worn the robes from Oliver’s and Felicity’s wedding, no one would have noticed—”

“No one would have noticed!” He paled, and Barry feared he might have set him to the edge of a nervous breakdown. Cisco grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him a little as he spoke. “Barry, this is your coronation we’re talking about! Not some King’s second wedding in a country far, far away, but your _co-ro-na-tion_.” He spoke the last word so slowly as if he was explaining the meaning to a little child. “Besides, I have created this design since we became friends and you promised me I got to design your robes, _and you would wear them_.”

Barry sighed in defeat. “Okay. Okay! I get it. Just… take some time off for yourself once in a while, and don’t commit a murder just because you think the others are incompetent imbeciles.”

“They _are_ incompetent imbeciles, my friend. And now get up here and stand still, so I can finish measuring you up properly.”

So Barry had gotten up the small podium in the middle of the room and stood there for what felt like an eternity while Cisco measured every single angle and muttered to himself, shushing him every time he tried to say something.

Afterward, Barry had made his way towards Mick’s forge, where he now had spent the last half an hour, effectively avoiding going back to the castle and trying out dinner samples.

Now, Mick looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “Yes, he’s coming over later,” he said with a snort.

“That’s—hey, that’s not what I meant!”

“Sure it isn’t.”

“It’s… okay, it’s not only what I meant. I really wanna know about your day.”

Mick snorted again in the face of Barry’s so obviously bad lying. Barry smiled.

“My day was fine. Got a couple of swords and knives done, and started with the new armor for you. Len’s coming here any minute. You have incredible timing, kid.”

Mick gave him an amused look, and Barry smiled sheepishly. “Just a coincidence. You know me and time don’t get along very well usually.”

“Hm, yes, I’m sure it’s just that and not your dick speaking.”

“Hey!” Barry yelled indignantly, smacking his biceps. “I’m not thinking with my dick. I barely ever do.”

“Right, you get those mixed up way too often. Remember the crush you had on that guy from this traveling circus? The acrobat!”

His face heated up, and Barry buried it in his hands. He did not want to think about this painful and embarrassing confrontation ever again. It would be totally fine by him if he’d never ever remembered it again in his life.

Mick roared with laughter.

“I’m glad you find my misery so entertaining.”

“Ah, come on, kid. You gotta admit, it was pretty funny.”

Yeah, it was. If it hadn’t happened to himself.

“Can we talk about something else? Please?”

“Sure. How about when you gonna start courting Len officially?”

Barry spluttered, and something caught in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit. The chair scraping noisily over the floor, Mick stood up and hit him with his palm between his shoulder blades three, for times, until the redness in Barry’s face was merely because of his embarrassment, not his lack of air coming into his lungs.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice scratchy.

Len. The thought of him alone sent Barry into a state of absolute swooning.

They had met roughly a year ago when Barry had visited Mick again. He hadn’t expected a handsome stranger to sit in the middle of the room as well, though. Mick had introduced hem, and Len had taken his hand to “greet him properly”, meaning a gentle kiss to his knuckles, Barry had known right there and then that he was lost. Adding Len’s bright blue eyes, white hair that looked like snow on a sunny winter day, and his general cool, sarcastic self, it really was a lost cause. Fighting this obvious crush was as effective as trying to cart a fish in front of a chariot.

“Well?”

Barry sighed. “Never, probably.” Sometimes, Mick was just too damn perceptive. It didn’t help that he was his closest friend. He wasn’t interested in romance himself, more of a loner and way happier to live in solitude, but when it came to others and their love lives, he was as noisy as they came. The drama must be entertaining, Barry guessed.

“He’s just another stupid crush. Nothing will ever come out of it.” There was no point in denying with Mick, anyway.  “And I won’t make the same mistake I did with… y’know. Alexander.”

Mick snickered again. “That the name of the circus guy, right?”

Barry nodded miserably.

Mick sighed. He got up again and went to the stove. Bustling around the kitchen, he pulled out a rather large kettle, filling it with water and put it over the fire. Then he gathered different dried herbs from his rather vast collection, putting them into a neat pile. He sat down again, facing Barry.

“You seem to like him,” he said.

“I do. Really. But… apart from the fact that he surely doesn’t like me back the same way… I think Joe wouldn’t be too impressed. Len is older, and in his eyes, I’m just a kid. We get along fine, but… I don’t know Mick.” He sighed.

It was a testimony to how miserable he must look right now that Mick didn’t make a scanting joke.

“I think he does like you. A lot. He’s just afraid to show it.”

Hope fluttered in his chest, but Barry quickly shut it down again. He had gotten burnt way too many times in the past, from men and women alike who didn’t share his affections. There were only so many times he could take it before his heart would shatter. And Len was too important to him, even though they didn’t see each other often. He’d rather have his friendship than nothing at all.

“Be that as it may… I’m still not going to do anything. Maybe the future will hold something for us, maybe it won’t. In any case… I’m gonna wait and see. What happens. Maybe I’ll find true love one day. Maybe I’ll meet this person where it just—clicks. Instantly. This person where I instantly know that they’re one. My soulmate. Someone who isn’t afraid to show they like me, someone who wants to share the rest of their life with me.”

Mick looked at him oddly but didn’t answer. Instead, the kettle began to whistle, and he got up to finish the tea.

The knock on the door came unexpectedly, and it made Barry jump in his seat. Mick threw him a look that was meant to tell him something, but he was too busy trying to smooth out his clothes and hide the wet stain the tea had made on his pants.

“Lenny, my buddy,” Mick greeted him cheerfully. They hugged tightly, patting each other on the back.

“Mick,” Len greeted him in his drawling velvet voice. “Long time no see.”

“Heh, that’s not my fault and you know it.”

Len huffed but didn’t comment further. Instead, he came striding towards Barry, smirking the way he always did and never failed to make Barry swoon.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted Barry with a little bow that was just this side of mocking.

“I’m no king yet,” Barry pointed out, but he blushed furiously nonetheless.

“Well, you’ll always be my king, royalty or not.”

Barry blushed so hard he was sure his cheeks must be hot enough to fry an egg on them.

Mick laughed loudly, and murmured something under his breath that sounded like, “Subtle, much?” but Len didn’t seem to hear him. Or he just ignored it.

“Well, thank you,” Barry managed to bring out eventually, even though his voice sounded a little tight to his ears.

Len sat down next to him, studying him intently, his icy blue eyes never once leaving his face. “So, Barry... How’s the planning for the big day going?”

“Fine, so far. Cisco is freaking out the tailors, Iris is making the cooks and bakers redo everything because it’s not perfect enough for her, and Joe is trying to coordinate the arrivals of the other kings and queens. But, on the good side, I finally finished writing my speech to the townspeople, and the ceremony for the Winter King went off without a hitch.”

Len stared at him incredulously. “I’m sorry, the what now?”

“Um… the ceremony for the Winter King? You know, the one every king or queen-to-be has to perform the full moon before their coronation.”

The Winter King. He was probably the most powerful person using magic in the kingdom, if not in the world. No one has met him, and those who did, they didn’t come back. No one was able to tell when he had first appeared, but ever since, he was responsible for the winter to inevitably come.

When Len didn’t answer and just continued to stare at him comically, Barry explained. “Well. Every time a new king or queen is going to be crowned, they have to perform a ceremony. Or ritual, really. We try to appease the Winter King, trying to make friendly contact and convince him of our good intentions.”

Len scoffed. “Really. And you think the Winter King will listen to what you have to say?”

“I certainly hope so. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but there’s this one legend, where one king thought that doing this ritual was rubbish, so he just… didn’t do it. Not long after his coronation, the summer turned into winter, and it snowed and snowed for ages. The summer never came back. Many people died, frozen to death, or starving, because there wasn’t enough food, with no harvest and all. The king eventually died of hypothermia before the first year of his regiment was over.

“His eldest daughter then performed the ritual and became queen. The snow started to melt, and summer came back. Ever since, we’ve been keen on keeping the Winter King happy and not angering him.”

Len looked as if he wasn’t sure if to laugh or to bang his head on the table in frustration. “Okay, Red. Whatever you say. But let me just make it clear that I don’t really think much of your legends about the Winter King.”

“Hey, they’re true!”

“Mhm, sure they are. Which king was it that didn’t perform the ritual?”

“King Henry III I think.”

Len nodded, contemplating something. “I see.” His eyes found Barry’s again, and it was as if he could see right to the bottom of his soul. “But he was also the king who started hunting the Winter King, made the possession of magical powers illegal and punishable by death, and therefore is responsible for the death and near extinction of magic folks.”

“I…” Damn. He was right.

Len chuckled. “See?” He leaned forward, and suddenly he was so close to Barry, his face mere inches away

With his index, he gently pressed against Barry’s jaw, making him close his mouth. He hadn’t realized he still had left it hanging open.

Len leaned back in his chair again, and Barry could breathe properly again.

“What other legends do your people have on the Winter King?” he asked curiously.

Barry had always wondered where Len actually came from. He wasn’t directly from Central Town, that much was clear. But he was from around, at least, from somewhere in the area of the Central Kingdom. There were a few other towns up in the mountains, small and thinly populated, and some down the border in the east near the shore.

But Len didn’t have the same accent, or skin color, as either of those. He didn’t seem to fit in anywhere here. If he didn’t know how frequent he came to visit Mick, he would think he was from somewhere else entirely. But the land of the kingdom was relatively large and vast, and even the way towards the other towns was hardly manageable within a day.

One day, maybe, he would gather up the courage to ask Len about it. But somehow, and he couldn’t really explain it to himself, it felt like an awfully personal question to ask, and he didn’t think he and Len had reached that level of trust yet.

Barry shook his head. “Well, there’s the legend of how the Winter King controls the seasons. That he sleeps during summer, and when he wakes up, things are starting to cool down, until in the middle of the winter, when he’s fully awake. That’s when his powers are at their height. It snows and such until he is tired again. Then comes spring, and so on.”

Len inclined his head, indicating he knew about it.

“Apart from that… whew. Many. Another popular one is the one about the Winter Kings Eternal Reign.”

“Interesting. Tell me about it.”

“Um, okay. Well, it’s mainly just a poem, and that poem is said to be a prophecy some other king once heard in the Whispering Caves. It goes…” he paused, thinking. He hadn’t heard the poem in a while now, nor actually thought about it.

“ _When the glaciers within start to melt_  
_His love will perish, petal by petal_  
_Betrayed by person closest he held_  
_For the savior lies with the devil_

 _Left will be nothing but the cold and ice_  
_So great will be his wrath_  
_Even freezing the warmest summer nights_  
_Nothing deterring him of his path_

 _With his heart lost_  
_The attempts of return are in vain_  
_For the only chance to stop the frost_  
_Is to end the devil’s reign._ ”

Len arched his eyebrow, smirking in amusement. “Ahh,” he said, sounding carefully neutral.

“In essence, it’s about how someone close to the Winter King betrays him,” Barry explained. “I guess that’s what meant by ‘savior’. Because the only one undoing the eternal reign is the one who’s responsible for it.”

“And the ‘lies with the devil’ part?”

“The person the savior is betraying the Winter King with, I guess. That person—the devil, in the poem—must be evil of some sorts. Either really reigning over Central and the Saviour has to fight and claim it back, or just… mind control, maybe. Emotional control. You know, like a royal advisor who really wants to rule himself, so he influences the king a lot.”

“Ahh,” Len said again.

“You think it’s rubbish.”

“Hm, no, not rubbish. Out of all the rubbish I have heard about the Winter King, this is quite good. And realistic, for once.”

“Well, it’s never happened before. The Eternal Reign hasn’t set in yet.” He paused for a moment, sipping his tea that had magically reappeared in his mug.

Something nudged at his memory, something he felt like he should remember. Something important. But he couldn’t remember it right now.

He sighed. “And maybe it’s just a legend, anyway. Or it’ll take another few centuries to come true.” Barry said.

“Maybe.” Len mused, still looking at Barry so intendedly. “But I still don’t think those legends are true, per se. Most of them are made to increase the fear non-magic folks have of those who do have magic. It’s propaganda, helping the witch-hunts. ‘ _So great will he his wrath_ ’? Makes sure they will have to fear something.”

“’ _Fear not the frost, for it will be your greatest ally_.’”

Len looked at him questioningly.

Barry shook his head, now flooded with excitement. If it really meant what he thought it did…

“ _’Fear not the frost, for it will be your greatest ally_.’ That’s the first two verses of my prophecy. The one from the Caves.”

When Len didn’t answer, Barry continued explaining. “You said that this one line fuels the fear people have of magics. What if my line means I… I can end this fear? If…” He edged closer to the edge of his seat, now practically vibrating. “If I can form an alliance with the Winter King, we could end the discrimination. We could fight it together! I don’t have any magic in me, but he does! It’ll be perfect!”

He looked at Len excitedly, and his stomach gave a happy jolt when he could see his eyes gleaming, seeing the same excitement there, even if it was in a more controlled fashion. “That surely would be an achievement.”

Barry beamed, and Len smiled back at him. He thought he might faint from the sheer beauty of it.

The loud and rapid knocks on the door broke the moment between them. Len whipped around, suddenly, his whole body was full of tension and he looked as if he was ready to strike down whoever it was that stood behind the door.

“Relax, I got it.”

Barry quite literally jumped upon hearing Mick’s deep rumble.

“What, forgot I was there?”

His cheeks flushed with shame because, quite frankly, he did have forgotten.

Mick laughed. “’Tis fine, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you two get, ah, along.” He winked at Barry before he opened the door.

The visitor turned out to be Iris.

“Princess,” Mick greeted her with a small bow.

“Mr. Rory. I’m looking for Barry?”

He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder.

“Thank you.” She squeezed past him and stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of Len. Dumbfounded, she stood there, her mouth agape as she stared at Len. It was quite the funny sight to look at, especially since Iris barely ever got startled by anything. But Barry had reacted the same when he had first seen Len sitting in Mick’s home, far from the forge but the fire still making him glow as if he was an otherworldly, incredible and possibly imagined, beautiful being.

Barry still thought Len was an otherworldly, incredible and possibly imagined, beautiful being, the months of knowing him hadn’t changed that. He just got better at dealing with his brain momentarily short-circuiting upon seeing him.

He threw Len a look, who looked immensely amused and smirked that damn smirk, sharing a look with Barry. He smiled back.

“Hey, Iris. This is Len. He’s a… friend. Len, that’s Iris.”

In one fluid motion, he got up. “May I introduce myself, Princess?” he asked with a velvety purr. “Leonard Snart. Like your brother said, I’m a friend. It’s such an honor to finally meet you in person. He’s told me so much about you already.”

Iris managed to catch herself again quite quickly. “It’s my pleasure, Leonard. I didn’t know he had quite this… handsome friends. And call me Iris. Although Barry isn’t my brother.”

He inclined his head and raised Iris’ hand to give her a courtesy kiss. “I apologize. And I have to say you are quite beautiful yourself.”

“Thank you, Leonard,” Iris now purred as well. “Actually, I’m here to pick Barry up.” She threw him a look that meant trouble. Uh, oh. “We still have a few things to do before his big day, and as much as he wants, he can’t always run away from things.”

Barry sighed. “Coming. Bye, Len, I guess we’ll… see each other around?” He just couldn’t keep the hopefulness out of his tone.

“I’d hope so, Barry.” He smirked his smirk at him.

“See ya, Mick.”

“Bye, kiddo.”

As soon as they were outside and the behind them closed, Iris rounded on him.

“Barry!” she cried, slapping his arm. “Dish!”

“Ow! What? There’s nothing _to_ dish!”

“ _Who is he_?”

“Who? Len?”

“No, Mick, who has been the royal blacksmith since we were kids! Of course I mean Len!” She had a mischievous gleam in her eyes and Barry knew he couldn’t escape her questions and her probing.

“He’s a friend of Mick’s,” he said carefully.

“ _And_?”

“Nothing, and. We met about a year ago at Mick’s when he was there. Since then, we’ve seen each other a few times.”

“Seen each other?” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Not—not that seen each other! Geez, Iris. We’ve met. Mostly at Mick’s, one time we took a little walk along the seaside. But that was it!”

Now Iris smirked. It was her best gossip-drama-smirk. “A walk along the seaside? Ohh, that’s so romantic!”

“It wasn’t really.” It really had been. “It was in the middle of the winter, and it had been freezing.” The cold hadn’t bothered him at all.

Iris _tch_ ed quietly. “Tell me what you want, Bartholomew Henry Allen, but I recognize love when I see it. And you, my friend, are _toootally_ smitten by that guy.”

He knew Iris only said that to cheer him up, he knew it, but somehow, it made his heart sank. “I like him, okay? But that’s it. And that’s all it’ll ever be. All it’ll ever can be.”

“So you don’t want to court him?”

“No,” he said with finality in his voice.

They had arrived in the castle, and as soon as they were within earshot of the guards, their conversation fell. When they entered the dining room, they were immediately hushed to their seats. Iris whispered him a promise to talk later, but for now, Barry was left alone with his thoughts taking more and more miserable turns.

 

***

 

The next few days passed in a blur, not leaving much room for Barry to wallow in self-pity. People were buzzing around the castle: maidens cleaning even the last spot on every plate and suit of armour until they were shining unnaturally bright, Cisco nearly shouting himself hoarse because the team of no less than five of the kingdom’s tailors who were working on Barry’s clothes and on what Joe and Iris were going to wear still didn’t do what he had told him to (“Have you not got any brains? I said crème, not white! Honestly, working with pros just once would be nice…”), the cook having several nervous breakdowns, and so on. It seemed that the preparations would take forever, and no end was near, even though they had started to plan and organize the whole ordeal just after the last Winter solstice.

In between, Barry managed to sneak out of the castle a few times. The hectic was giving him migraines, and apart from that, he always had been good at running away from his problems. He had visited Mick a few times, hung out with Cisco, until both of them had chased him out of their workplaces, since “they had to get their work done, too, and it was just a stupid ceremony, anyway”, or in similar wording.

Too soon, the day before all the representatives from friendlies arrived, and it filled Barry’s stomach with dread. The nearer the evening came, the more he felt like vomiting and canceling the ceremony. When night fell, he couldn’t take it anymore, so he grabbed a large cloak that was looking a bit battered and roughly patched together in some places.

It wasn’t the first time Barry sneaked out of the castle during the night, disguised and very anxious not to be found out. When he was a kid, he had sneaked down to the cemetery, talking to his parents. He had believed that, if he just wished hard enough, they’d come back one day. Later, when he had grown older, he had mixed among the villagers, trying to get a feel of how they were like, of belonging somewhere instead of being practically locked up in the castle.

Now, he was headed for a pub. He had discovered it last year, and it was his favorite place to go when he needed to be away from everything.

A small summer breeze filled the air, with it bringing the smell of fires and rain alike. The sign reading ‘The Hanged Man’, indicating the pub’s entrance, was gently creaking in its hinges as the wind swung it from left to right.

Inside, it was crowded, exactly like Barry had hoped. He headed straight for the bar, nodding at the woman tending it as he sat down. She gave him a once-over, then smiled, before she vanished and came back seconds later with a large honey mead. He pushed the money over the counter top, ready to get up and mingle when a deep, velvety purr rooted him on the spot.

“My, my, my, look who we have here.”

Barry whirled around, and coming face to face with Len’s icy blue eyes. “Hey,” he said rather breathlessly.

“Barry,” he said, dipping his head in a salute. “What is the crown prince and king-to-be of this fine kingdom doing in a dingy bar like this?”

“Shh!” Barry looked around wildly, but luckily, the music and chatter were too loud for anyone to overhear him. Still, he tugged at Len’s arm and pulled him along into the far corner by the window.

When he was sure no one could listen in on their conversation, he answered. “I was getting sick of all the coronation stuff, honestly. And literally, too.”

“Hm.” Len took a long sip from the auburn-colored drink in his hand. “Are you afraid of the procedure itself? Or of being king?”

“The coronation. Or, both, I think. It’s just…” He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his neck. Len trailed the movement with his eyes.

“There’s going to be so many people there, and they all expect me to be this… this king, this man making those grand decisions, like deciding on which kingdom we wage war on next, or how much money to spend on this and that. Tomorrow, when all the Counts and Lords and Kings and such will arrive, they’ll come with their own interests at heart, trying to win me over for their cause. And then, the people here think I’m their perfect candidate, as if I know everything, and forbid I’ll ever make a misstep.”

“I see.” He took another sip from his drink, now looking at Barry with a scrutinizing intensity. “There will always be those trying to manipulate you, Barry. They’ll lie and do anything so you’ll believe them, using you on their path to power. There will always be doubters. Always be people demanding, demanding, demanding, but never giving.” He paused, picking at the cord of Barry’s cloak. “But you can do it. You know why? ‘Cause you’re not alone. Joe will still be there, and your friends. And Mick, who’s a force to be reckoned with.”

Barry let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, you’re right about that. It’s…” He sighed deeply. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Your people?”

Barry nodded.

“They will. How can they not?”

Barry snorted, and Len smirked at him. His heart fluttered hopefully in his chest.

“They love you already. You’re their perfect prince, always there for those in need, like the good Samaritan you are. They’ll worship the ground you walk on as soon as you become king.”

His gaze drifted down, not sure he could meet Len’s eyes. He so wanted to believe it, wanted it to be true he could be the king his people deserved. The king all of them deserved, not only those who were perfectly average human beings, but also those with magic in their blood—especially those with magic in their blood.

Gently, Len’s cool fingers were lifting his chin up until they had made eye contact again.

“I know you can do it.” It was barely a whisper.

The moment between them seemed to extend into infinity, staring into each other’s eyes, and suddenly, there was this _pull_ —

Len coughed falsely, letting his hand drop.

“How about we enjoy our evening, hm? Or is it past your bedtime already?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

Len smiled smugly but indicated for them to sit down.

The booth was narrow, and they were pressed against each other from shoulder to knee, something Barry wasn’t sorry about but found problematic anyway, because Len’s smell and voice _and_ the press of his body against his side was slowly but surely stealing his ability to act like a normal human being.

“What brings you here?” he finally brought out. He turned his head to look at Len, only to see the other was already looking at him. And damn, they were sitting so close.

“Needed a break. And I like this place. The drinks are good, and more importantly, they’re ice-cold.

“You have a thing for the cold?”

“Hm, yes, you could say that. And you run a little hot, I see?”

“Ever since the lightning. Caitlin says it’s a side effect. Not one she can explain, but yeah.”

“The lightning?”

“Oh.” Right. Len didn’t know. “When I was eighteen, I was struck by lightning. I lived,” he added quickly upon seeing Len’s expression, “without any major injuries. Caitlin—I mean, Dr. Snow—she’s the royal practitioner. I was in a coma for nine months. Then, at some point, I suddenly woke up. I was fine, and I didn’t have any issues since. The only thing left is the scars.”

“Lightning scars,” Len said thoughtfully.

“Yeah. They’ll probably won’t vanish completely, although they’re a lot paler now.”

“What did you do to get hit by lightning?”

“I, um…” he scratched his neck sheepishly. “I ran away. Nor far, just on the mountain. I was visiting my parents’ grave. It was the anniversary.”

“Of their murder.”

It wasn’t a question, but Barry gave the affirmative anyway.

Until today, no one managed to find those responsible for the deaths of the king and the queen. Barry remembered a little of that night. He remembered waking up because he needed something to drink. Back then, his bedroom had been right next to his parents’. He remembered the shouting, his father Henry trying to fight off the attacker. He remembered the screams his mother let out and his father’s yells for mercy. He remembered the gurgling sounds his father had made after he was stabbed, too. He remembered seeing their lifeless bodies on the bed, and even in death, holding their hands.

“I was at their grave, bringing flowers. I had noticed the storm coming, but I thought there was still enough time. Well, obviously there wasn’t.”

“But you woke up again.”

“I did.”

Len gave him a strange look, one that Barry couldn’t quite place.

“Well, I’m glad you did. Otherwise, we would never have met, and that surely would make the world a darker and colder place.”

_Dammit, Len._

“I’m glad we met, too.”

There was this pull between them again, but this time, it was Barry who broke the moment.

“Do you want anything else to drink?”

Len looked at his glass as if he was surprised it was empty already. “Sure. Bring the same thing you’re having. But please make sure it’s cold enough.”

Barry grinned. “Got it.”

A few minutes later, he came back again with two mugs of mead with whiskey, one hot for Barry, and one extra cold for Len. Len hummed appreciatively.

“Aren’t you hot in that?” Barry asked after a while when he noticed that Len was still wearing his navy blue and possibly warm looking traveling cloak.

“Why, thank you, Barry.”

He looked at him perplexed until it dawned on him how his words must have sounded. “No! No, no, no, not that hot, not hot in you’re hot in you look hot and eligible—although you do, you do look really hot—but no, that’s not what I meant and whycan’tIshutup.”

Now would be a good time for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, Barry thought.

But Len just laughed. “Thank you very much for the compliment, Barry. Let me just say you look quite eligible yourself.”

Okay, _now_ the ground could open up. Definitely. Any second right now would be very lovely.

“But as for the cloak, you’re right, it might grow a little warm in here, especially with someone _so hot_ like you sitting next to me.”

He donned his cloak and—

Oh, God.

When Barry thought Len had looked hot before, it was nothing compared to now. He was wearing tight, all black clothing. The shirt clung to his body like it was personally tailored for him, his broad shoulders and muscled arms looking better than ever. In all, he looked like a wet dream, and Barry felt he was having a stroke right there.

“Hm, yes, that’s what I meant, must be more comfortable,” he choked out. Len, the bastard, smirked devilishly.

But Len being Len, he finally took pity on him after having enjoyed Barry’s misery enough. “Now, with turning into a king tomorrow, is there anything you always wanted to do as a man with not so many responsibilities, but never did?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anything you always wanted to do but never did? Anything still on your bucket list before you turn into this serious man that can’t, by law, have any fun?”

Barry laughed. Well. There was something, but…

“Tell me,” Len inquired.

“No. It’s too…” He shook his head. “Besides, I’ll do fine without it, too.”

“Now you got me curious.” He leaned forward a little, and Barry could smell his bathing lotion. Something citrusy, with evergreen and the smell of cold. Just cold, like a picture-book winter morning. It was making his head spin.

“No. You’d think I’m an idiot then, or something.”

“Is it dangerous? Or something criminal? Or… something naughty?”

Barry’s cheeks heated up again. It seemed to be their constant state around Len.

“Okay,” Barry caved. “But only if you promise not to laugh.”

Len raised his hands and placed them over his heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“I always wanted to.... well, it’s a bit reckless.”

Len cocked his head, waiting for Barry to continue.

“I’ve always wanted to steal a ship.” Len started grinning, so Barry continued quickly. “Borrow! Borrow a ship!” Len started to pout. He was starting to think Len kind of had a criminal element in him. (It didn’t make Barry like him any less.)

“Borrow a ship. At night. And then sail out somewhere, where you can barely see the castle, but the stars. My whole life, I spent so much time inside that castle. I saw the stars before all right, but… I kind of envied the freedom you have when you just… sail away. You can go anywhere you want, when you want… I don’t know. It’s silly, I know. You can laugh now.” He sipped his mead, resolutely not looking at Len.

“Hey.” The cool touch of his fingers under his chin forced Barry to look up again. “I’m not laughing. It’s quite an impressive dream. And in no way something to laugh about.” He looked outside, contemplating. “It’s a cloudless night.”

“Yeah… wait.” Len smirked at him. “Do you mean…?”

“If you want to.”

“I don’t know how to sail,” he said promptly.

“I do.”

“I could get into a lot of trouble.”

“You’re not the king yet. Besides, you can always say it’s for a royal mission, and they’d give you anything you ask for.” He emptied his drink. “But it’s your decision. I’m merely offering my services.”

“What if we don’t get back?” he whispered. He couldn’t believe he was really starting to consider this.

“We’ll figure something out.”

Damn. The possibility alone… it felt like something he always wanted was right there, just within reach, and all he had to do was take it.

On the other side, he really could get into trouble. He was going to be crowned king tomorrow, and they expect him to show top behavior, not something so reckless and… immature.

And doing it with Len… it screamed danger. Len himself screamed nothing but danger. But maybe that was one of the things that caused Barry to like him so much.

And it was just one night… one night left.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Len smiled, really smiled at him. “Let’s do it,” he repeated.

They abandoned their table and rushed outside, a weird form of excitement hanging in the air. It felt like everything was possible at the moment; he felt invincible, incredible.

Central’s small harbor wasn’t far away, and at this time of the day, it was beautifully vacant. Barry headed directly to one of the largest sailing ships, but Len grabbed him by his arm and softly steered him towards another, much smaller boat.

“We’re just two people. I might be skilled,” he smirked, “but even I can’t handle that size.”

“Um… okay.” He felt like he was missing something here.

The ship Len steered them to was relatively small, just big enough for two people. “We’ll need to row out of the harbor. The wind’s pretty chill tonight, it won’t cause us any trouble. It won’t make us very fast either, but low speed should do.”

Barry nodded. He boarded the ship while Len was loosening the leashes that kept the boar from drifting off the pier, and immediately grabbing a paddle, handing Barry the other one. Paddling out of the harbor was exhausting, but the adrenaline of doing something… illegal was flooding Barry, mixed with excitement and pure joy.

Soon enough, they had rowed far enough off the shore to set sail. Len was indeed quite skilled and knew what he was doing. Like he had predicted, they didn’t move with much speed, but it was definitely enough. Barry had offered Len his help, but the other had just shushed him and done all the work himself.

And seeing Len work did things to Barry. Seeing the taunt muscles move under his clothes (he had put off his cloak again) while he was working was… not something Barry should be thinking about too hard in Len’s presence.

So he tried to focus on the wind hitting his face and the lights of the town and castle that grew more distant with every second that passed by. Soon, he barely couldn’t see the lights at all. That was when Len had taken in the sail again, preventing them from moving any more than the waves pushed them.

“Welcome,” Len said, “on the open sea.”

As far as Barry could see, there was nothing but water. The stars were littering the night sky like small insects nesting around a large light bulb, and the moon illuminated enough of their surroundings.

“This is incredible.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He laid down into the boat, looking up at the stars. Barry flopped down next to him. The space in the boat was so tight they could not _not_ touch. While Barry mostly was like a human fire, heating up everything around him, Len’s skin was amazingly cool and comfortable.

They stayed like that for a long while, just staring at the night sky. A few times Barry saw a shooting star zipping by. Every time he wished for the same thing.

“What do you think is up there?” Barry asked at some point.

“Behind the sky?”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing. Or everything.” He paused, and Barry felt him shifting next to him. “I like to believe that it never ends. Makes us feels small in comparison.”

Barry nodded. “We barely even matter down here, when we’re just a speck of dust in a large universe. Our actions are without any consequence for the existence of the universe.”

“Mhm. So philosophical tonight.”

Barry shrugged. “It helps, I think. Makes me think the coronation tomorrow isn’t really something to worry about. The universe will still continue to exist without me messing up, or actually managing to go through with it.”

“You will manage to go through with it. And you will be a good king to your people. That’s just who you are, Barry.”

He turned his head, looking at him, only to realize that, for a second time this evening, Len had already been staring at him.

The moonlight caught in his hair, and the stars were reflecting in his eyes. Barry’s heart seemed to miss a beat. He ignored the feeling.

They just lay there for another while, none of them saying anything, just looking at each other.

Eventually, Barry moved to sit up again. The sky had forfeited some of its darkness, and, with a sinking heart, Barry knew he had to get back. Len seemed to think along the same line. He got up as well, set sail again, and back they went.

The sail back seemed to pass more quickly than on the way out. Barry desperately tried to capture the moment, to keep it, but it passed like water through his hands. Too soon, they were back in the harbor, Len fixing the leash on the pier and then helping him out of the boat. Too soon, they were back in town, at the point where they had to part ways, Barry towards the castle and Len towards—wherever.

“I hope tonight was coming close to what you had hoped.”

“More than that. It was… thank you. It was amazing.”

“Anytime, Barry. If you ever want to steal a ship again… or anything, really.” He smirked again. “Let me know.”

“I will.” He smiled at him, and when his heart ached too much, he turned around. “Good night, Len.”

“Good night, my king,” Len whispered after him.

Barry felt his burning gaze on his back until he was inside the castle and door behind him closed.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning of the day had finally come. After weeks of preparations, it was finally there.

Barry awoke with a start. The sun had tickled his skin, nearly blinding him with its brightness. He didn’t feel rested, in fact, he felt as tired as he had been when he had gone to bed, but the bright light destroyed any hope of going back to sleep.

Also, he’d never live it down if he’d be late, or overslept his coronation.

With a sigh, he got up and ready for the few last-minute preparations. There wasn’t much left to be done, merely a few tweaks here and there. Iris’s fiancé, Prince Eddie, still had to arrive, bringing his brother with him. Then the guests should be complete.

But Barry’s mind wasn’t in on it. His thoughts were still lingering on last night, on Len, and on all the things that had nearly happened. Could have happened. If he’d have enough courage. If he had been sure Len liked him back.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t, it was evident. How he pulled away every time they got too close. How he closed off as soon as it got too personal. How he could flirt, but never really meant it. He could be sweet, and charming, but he might just be friendly.

It broke Barry’s heart a little. Just a little. Because it was just a crush that would pass eventually. Even though this had been the longest lasting crush he’d ever had.

Maybe he just had to meet the right person. Maybe he just needed this one human being, and as soon as he’d find them, this silly crush would go away, and all that mattered was the one for him. He hoped he’d find that person soon.

Without paying much mind to where he was going, we left the castle. He knew, absently, that he had to make it to Cisco’s for the final try-on of his robes. Cisco had finally lost the last bits of patience he had with the other tailors and decided to finish the robes himself.

Not really paying any mind to where he was going, he suddenly ran into something solid. Something solid and _warm_.

Before he could fully register what was happening, he stumbled, falling backward and with him, tearing the thing that he had walked against.

That thing turned out to be a human.

“F—shit, I’m sorry!” He cursed as he fell, lying on the floor with the other person on top of him.

“No, I’m sorry, I should have paid better attention to where I was going.”

Barry looked up and got lost in a set of the darkest blue eyes he’d ever seen. His mind slowly coming back to the present, he realized that those eyes belonged to a man. A very good looking, blond man.

A good-looking man lying on top of him.

The man hastily got up, nearly springing to his feet. He outstretched his hand, offering it to Barry who took it. The blond man pulled him up with ease.

“I’m so, so sorry about this. I’m such a klutz sometimes.”

“No, it’s my fault, really. I should have used my eyes for looking and not just as decoration in my face. I’m sorry.”

Barry laughed. The other man smiled at him, his eyes glowing brightly. He looked uncertain, but so open and friendly at the same time.

“Oh, sorry, where are my manners today? I’m Eobard. Prince Eobard, from the Southern Isles.” He held out his hand again, which Barry took instantly.

“You’re Eddie’s brother?”

“Um, yes, that’d be me,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Prince Bartholomew, but you can call me Barry.” He let go of his hand.

“Prince—oh, shit. Oh, God, I’m so, so sorry, your Majesty, how can I ever—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Barry laughed. “We just fell. It’s cool.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I’m totally chill. If you had run over Joe, that wouldn’t have gone vastly different, but I’m just me.”

“Just you…” Eobard smiled, and he looked so handsome.

Barry shook his head. “Um, do you need help to know where you have to go? The guest chambers are in the castle, of course, we’re providing room for you and Eddie since Eddie’s Iris fiancé and all…”

“Oh! Yeah, that would be nice. But… actually, I’ve been meaning to take a look around the town? Unlike Eddie, I’ve never been here before, and it looks so beautiful.”

“Hm, yeah, I’d’ve noticed you if you had been here before.” Oh, God, had he really just said that? Could he not ever shut up? Not once?

But Eobard smiled, and it calmed Barry’s nerves a little.

“So, um, where do you want to go? I could… show you around, a little, if you want to.” _Bad Barry. Stop flirting._

Eobard’s smile didn’t diminish. “Yes, I’d love that. If you have the time? I don’t want to be pulling you off anything important.”

“No, no, you’re not. I was just going to try on my robes for the last time, but that can wait.”

“Then I’d love to be shown around by you.”

“Okay, then.”

Barry felt a giddy excitement run through him like he hadn’t in a very long time. He kept stealing furtive glances at his companion, and Eobard seemed to steal a few glances at him, as well. They caught each other’s eyes fairly often but it didn’t feel awkward at all.

“So… what’s life on the Southern Iles like? I’ve never been over there either.”

“I think I would have noticed you, too, if you had been,” Eobard said and laughed. Barry’s insides tingled pleasantly. “It’s okay, I guess. I’m not the crown prince, obviously, so I don’t have as many tasks as Edward does. What people expect of me isn’t quite as high, too. It gives me the chance to do the things I love.”

“And what is it that you love?”

“Science. I’ve been working with our doctor. I’m trying to learn as much as I can about human physiology. What interests me the most, is magic. How came it to be? How come some people have it, some don’t? I’m hoping that, if I can find an answer, I’ll be able to help make the world understand that magic users aren’t so different from us. That they’re just humans, like your friendly next-door-neighbor, or like the lady that sells you your bread every morning.”

“Wow, that’s—that’s really amazing, Eobard.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course! I’ve been trying to advocate for magics ever since I managed to grab the concept. I think it’s really just a small difference between us, similar to having, like, a different hair color. But people seem so focused on their hate, that they can’t see past it.”

“Exactly! I’ve been trying that, too. I thought that they might listen to the science even if they don’t listen to reason.”

“That’s really great, Eobard.”

They smiled at each other brightly.

Eobard coughed loudly and turned his eyes onto the streets again. “Apart from that, life at home is quiet. Same old people, same things happening every day. Not much variety.”

They continued to walk, and before they knew it they had left the heart of the town, walking along the shore of the Great Sea. They talked and talked, about everything and nothing. Barry learned that Eobard shared his love for food, especially chicken sandwiches. He liked the same kind of music, and his favorite superpower, or magic ability, if he could choose, would be running faster than light, exactly like Barry.

Unlike Barry, he hadn’t lost his parents, but he had been close to his uncle, who had died early because of pneumonia.

When the castle turned into a small point in the distant, they turned back again, only feeling slightly guilty about walking so far.

At some point, they had started to hold hands, and it felt so natural Barry couldn’t believe it. Eobard was so open in showing his affections, may it be pushing back a lock of stray hair, or smiling at him so openly and adoringly Barry knew he was falling, fast and hard.

“It’s really incredible we have met, you know. I’m almost not feeling guilty anymore for walking into you.”

“Yeah, I think so, too. I’ve never met someone before who… I don’t know. Got along with so well? It feels like we’ve known each other for years, and not only a few hours,” Barry said.

“Exactly. It’s as if we were meant to meet.”

“Yeah.”

They had reached the town gates. His eyes fell on the large clock tower and—

“Oh, shit!” More than three hours had passed, and it was well past noon by noon.

“I’m so sorry, I gotta go, I gotta try on my robes for tonight—Cisco is going to kill me—”

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have kept you for so long.”

“Don’t apologize. I wouldn’t want to trade the time we just had for anything in the world.”

“Me neither.” Eobard offered him his stunning smile again, and for a second, Barry contemplated kissing him. But as quick as it came, the moment was gone.

Eobard squeezed his hand affectionately and shushed Barry away. “Go. We’ll see each other tonight.”

“Yeah.” With a last smile, Barry ran off towards Cisco’s home.

Cisco would tear his head off for arriving so late, as well as Iris when he’d finally make it back to the castle. But he meant what he had said, he’d never want to trade those three hours for anything else.

Meeting someone like him, someone with whom he clicked so easily, was such a great feeling he couldn’t really find it in him to care about his friends’ anger at him.

 

***

 

They had indeed been very furious with him, but after telling both of them about Eobard, they were just as excited for him as he was. Barry couldn’t even wait for the evening to come, when he’d finally got to see Eobard again, maybe dance with him, laugh alongside him and just spend the time with him.

Soon enough, the time had come when, _finally_ , everything was ready for the coronation. At five in the afternoon, Iris had rushed him into his room, were no less than three maids were waiting for him to help him with getting ready.

Suddenly, now with the big event being so close, his nerves started to flutter again, and the familiar feeling of nausea returned. One hour later, he was finished, making his way downstairs to the crown room. Everyone else was already inside, including Iris and Joe.

When his cue came, he walked through the vast double doors. The feeling of wanting to vomit returned full force, but he tried to ignore that feeling as much as he could. Thankfully, the way between the doors and the throne at the end of the room wasn’t long, but every step felt like it took more courage than the one before.

He passed Count Metternich, who looked at him scrutinizing and as if he wanted to stick a leg out for Barry to tumble. He passed a group of young princesses, who all batted their eyelashes at him. Then, at last, he had spotted Eobard among the crowd of people. He couldn’t help but smile at him when he caught his eye, and Eobard’s gentle smile helped him to calm down a little.

At last, he had reached the podium, where Joe was standing with the crown in his hand. Iris was waiting next to him, holding up the cushion with the three regalia placed on it, smiling at him reassuringly.

“I, King Joseph II, elected by the people of this kingdom, to take upon the throne, until the rightful heir, Bartholomew I, were to come of age and claim his place, now speak to you.” He focused on Barry.

“Bartholomew Henry Allen.” Barry raised his right hand and placed it on his heart. “Do you accept your place on the throne in order to rule over the country and the kingdom, like your father and father’s father did before you?”

The room was eerie silent.

“I accept.”

“And do you vow to rule this kingdom by the laws the constitution has created, in the best interest for your people, as a just and fair king, protecting those in need, and serving justice to those who did wrong?”

He took a deep breath. “I vow.”

Joe smiled at him. “Then I, substitute King Joseph I, will place upon your head, the crown, a symbol for your new role as the king of the Central Kingdom.”

And so he did. The audience clapped politely.

Barry bowed deeply before he turned to Iris to take the royal regalia in his hand. He turned around, facing all these other royal guests.

“All hail King Bartholomew, the new king of the Central Kingdom.”

They clapped louder, and a few cheers sounded from the guests. Barry couldn’t help but smile widely. He had made it.

 

***

 

The banquet was a merry gathering. The cooks had outdone themselves this time, the musicians were playing the sweetest music, and the guests were as happy as they could be. Barry still couldn’t believe how everything was running so smoothly.

He felt like there was something coming. It felt like the calm before the storm.

Iris laughed at him and told him to relax, and even Eddie seemed cheerful and said everything would be going fine.

So Barry pushed the feeling down and tried to enjoy himself as much as he could.

When the feast was finished, the moved to the ballroom. It was beautifully decorated, and the first time used again since Joe had been crowned king. The guests formed a loose circle, with enough room in the middle to dance. Trying to give off an air of confidence, Barry stepped in the middle, waiting for Iris to join him to open the dance.

But Iris didn’t step forward. Instead, Eobard joined him in the circle.

“What are you doing?” Barry whispered, surprised.

“Something special,” he whispered back and offered Barry this gorgeous smile of his.

Barry laughed nervously, looking around, but no one seemed surprised. Joe was even looking proudly at him.

Eobard fell down on one knee.

A few people gasped, and one person whooped loudly. Probably Queen Felicity.

“… Eobard?” He didn’t dare to hope that it meant what he thought it meant.

“Bartholomew,” he said in a loud and confident voice, “I know we don’t each other for a very long time now. But since the moment we met, I knew that destiny that had made me stumble and, quite literally, fall for you.”

A few snickered. Barry clasped his hands together in front of his mouth. Eobard really did—

“I’ve never met someone like you. A person, with whom I could be myself. A person, with whom I just clicked. A person, whose mind seemed so seemingly in synch with my own. The hours I got spend with you are the best I spent in my life. And I never want to spend my life with someone else. With you, I’ve found something I’ve been searching for my entire life: a place where I belong. Barry, you are that place to me. You made me realize that home is, in fact, a person.”

Barry couldn’t believe this was happening. Finally— _finally_ , someone he liked, someone he liked a lot, felt the same about him. And wasn’t afraid to show it. Finally, after he had met the one person he was seemingly made for, thought the same. And this person wanted to be with him. Forever.

“So, if you feel the same, I ask you—would you do me the honor and marry me?”

“Yes! Yes, of course, yes!” he squealed. His grin must be huge because Barry’s cheeks were already hurting from smiling so much.

Eobard beamed up at him, his eyes gleaming with joy. He held Barry’s hand, and just lifted a hand to his cheek, caressing him softly. Oh, how Barry wished he could kiss him right now.

Suddenly, an icy breeze swished through the room, so strong it was lifting up skirts and ruffling the ladies’ carefully made hair, some of them letting out small shrieks. The windows started to rattle, and it seemed as if it was dark outside—but nightfall wasn’t due for another two hours.

Curious, Barry extracted himself from Eobard’s grip, and made his way towards the windows, peering outside. A fresh breeze of wind inside a closed room with no windows open to let it in was curious enough, but, if he was not mistaken, there was a thin layer of—

“Snow?” Joe said, along with a few others who looked outside in disbelief.

“But it’s summer! Why is there snow?” a woman in a yellow dress asked out loud.

Quickly, Barry spun around, catching Iris’ and Joe’s eye. They hurtled together, looking at each other fearfully.

“This can only mean one thing,” Barry whispered. Iris shook her head no.

“It can’t be. What could we possibly have done to anger him? You performed the ceremony for him, right? Before the coronation?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then what—”

“It doesn’t matter, now,” Joe chimed in urgently. “We need to calm down our guests.”

“But most of them know the legends and… snow during the coronation… it just can’t be a good omen. They’ll think the Winter King doesn’t accept me, and it’ll make them question my authority.” Barry sighed. “This could seriously damage our relationships to other countries. I know that Count Metternich for one is practically waiting for me to make a mistake. I can’t… not on my first day.”

“Okay, then… how about we say it’s a common occurrence? Just something to do with the clouds and the mountains, and that it can happen, but it’ll pass soon?” Iris said simply.

“But—”

“If it doesn’t pass in the next few days, you’ll go and search for the Winter King. It’ll be a diplomatic example. I mean, you practically worship the ground he’s walking on, anyway. Besides, your first trip as a king to reconcile with the most powerful and dangerous magic of the whole kingdom? If you can manage that, no one will question your authority ever again.”

Barry ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit he couldn’t discard ever since he was a teenager. “ _If_ I manage, Iris.”

“But you will,” she said confidently. “I know you. There’s no better person suited for the job than you. Besides, we don’t know yet if this snow will last, anyway. It could be gone by morning.”

“Along with the creepy darkness, you mean?”

She sighed and patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. Joe looked at him the same way.

“Come on, kiddo. You gotta speak to your people.”

He nodded, straightening his robes. “My people,” he mumbled under his breath.

And so he did. Barry could tell that he hadn’t managed to convince all of them. Some of the older counts and dukes, along with two kings from neighboring kingdoms, looked skeptical. Especially Count Metternich who, Barry was sure, would have interrupted and openly accused Barry if not for the fact that Joe had placed himself strategically next to him.

After that, the festivities carried on as planned. There was the feast (greatly enjoyed by the vast majority), then the official dance, where Barry and Iris were dancing in the lead, and eventually joined by the others. It lasted well past midnight, and when (finally) even the most persistent dancers had decided to call it a night (several princes, princesses, and marchionesses from southern kingdoms and countships), the sun was already setting.

He bid Eobard good night, who had refused to leave his side even though it was clear he must be at least as tired as him. Though finally and totally exhausted, Barry fell into his bed, not really bothering with disrobing, despite what his maid might say. She’d surely get something like a heart attack in the morning when she’d see the rumpled robes, and cuss at him for being so careless.

His sleep wasn’t nearly as restful as he had hoped. He dreamed of snowflakes, a deep cold winter, and icy blue eyes. Especially the eyes. They hunted his dreams, looking at him accusingly, and accompanied with the ominous feeling of being watched, his stomach was twisting uncomfortably. He awoke with the taste of bile in his mouth, feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all.

Today, he would officially greet his people, making rounds through the town, speak to the administrative and the commoners, and then continue the festivities. The large courtyard would be decorated, and craftsmen were able to sell their goods all day long.

In a way, Barry preferred this part of his coronation over the official, formal part. He got to forge his connection with the people, mingling amongst them, and he didn’t have to act all stiff and prickly. But it was exhausting nonetheless.

Sluggishly, he got out of bed, immediately hit by a cold breeze. He must have left his windows open the day before, because, it was arctic levels of cold in his room.

And it had snowed even more during the night.

Barry groaned, rushing over to the window. Outside, everything was white, covered in a thick layer of snow. The sky was still grey, and by the looks of it, it had no intentions of stopping anytime soon.

Sighing, he turned away from the window and went to the large bathroom that was joined to his bedroom. Getting ready for the day somehow took a lot longer than usual, and before he knew it, he was surrounded by his maid who was, as expected, lecturing him for being so careless with his clothing.

The brunch with his royal guests proceeded fairly uneventfully. Eobard was sitting by his side, charming Joe and Iris the like, while Eddie was looking a little grumpy, though he tried to play it over.

Then, finally, afternoon arrived, and Barry got to wear his favorite casual clothing, and the festivities in the town began.

It was still snowing and had been doing so for the entire day. The thick layer covering everything had grown rapidly from merely a foot in height to four now, and it still didn’t show any sign of stopping.

Barry wasn’t the only one who was starting to get worried. He knew his people and their attitude towards magic and especially towards the Winter King. He might have been able to pass it off as a mere quirk of nature towards the others, but he knew the townsfolk would never buy it.

“Just try not to mention the snow at all,” Joe had advised him before they stepped out of the castle. “Don’t point their attention to it, or they’ll focus on what is wrong. Stick to your speech, and everything will be fine.”

“And when they ask? I can’t _lie_ to them.”

“Let them ask individually, and say you got it handled. If you have to, reassure them by saying you’ll go and negotiate with the Winter King, but you’re positive the snow will cease in a day or so. Just… don’t start a panic.” Joe had patted him on the shoulder.

Don’t start a panic. Easy-peasy.

“I’ve already written to Bathilda, Percival, Arthur, and Eleanor.”

“You mean the Council of the Elderly?” Barry grinned.

Joe just gave him a flat look. “Yeah. Them. They agreed to meet with us tonight, just after nightfall. We’ll have to discuss what to do concerning this sudden outbreak of winter.”

Barry sighed, his grin faltering. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

“You will be expected to hold the meeting, as the new king. It’ll also be a good way to situate yourself in their circle and convince them of your plans for your reign and therefore your kingdom. Normally, this wouldn’t be due until the next full moon, but considering the circumstances…”

“Better do it now. Got it.” He sighed.

“But now,” Joe said, and his voice turned softer and less business-like, “your speech to the people. It’s time. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He nodded. “Good. Remember what I said. You got this, son.”

Barry nodded. Gesturing towards the guards, he readied himself. They pulled open the large front gates.

Despite everything, the atmosphere was quite cheerful when he stepped outside the castle alongside Joe and Iris, and he was greeted by applause and loud cheering. Most of the town people had gathered around the castle steps, all wrapped in thick cloaks, scarves, and snow boots.

Barry coughed. “Em. Hello.” A few snickered. At least they knew how clumsy he could be sometimes. “It is my pleasure to finally introduce myself as the King of the Central Kingdom.

“Ever since my parents deceased so early, I knew that the day would come when I would have to step up and be the king my parents intended for me to be. Thankfully,” he said with a smile, looking over towards Joe and Iris, “I had great people surrounding me, who took me in willingly as one of their own when I was too young to be a king. Joe raised me, and Iris became the best friend and advisor I could ever have hoped for.”

They both smiled back at him, Iris positively beaming.

“Joseph then became the substitute king, one you admired and loved as if he was your elected.” The crowd cheered loudly.  It was a testimony to how much Joe has given those people back. Back then, when he had been serving as in the royal guard, declared a knight by King Henry for his great services to the kingdom, and eventually became the king’s most trusted, earning himself a rank in the Royal Defence Associating, Central Kingdom’s “army”.

Joe knew his people, since he had been one of them, and he had done his best to diminish the rate of crime, enabling them to work legally, and earn enough to afford decent living standards.

Barry smiled at the crowd. “I, for one, will do everything in my power to continue Joseph’s legacy, and the legacy of my father, King Henry. I want to be a good king for you, the king this country deserves.

“Therefore, I’m going to make it my mission to end the segregation between magics and non-magic folks.” The crowd turned completely silent, just as Barry had expected. He took a deep breath.

“There is still too much hate in this world. Wars are fought over land, over food, over the right to rule. But there are also wars that aim to eliminate those who are different from the rest. Those who have inherited the gift of magic as normal as the others are. They are in a minority, and because of us, they don’t feel safe.” His palms were starting to sweat, and surreptitiously, he pressed them close to his legs, hoping no one would notice.

“I want to create a world where we can live as one, where nothing but the traits of personality make us different from each other—not the color or our skin, or our heritage, or something as simple as the ability to do something incredible. We are all people. Let’s not be divided by hate, but instead, let us grow and heal in love. The way my parents would have intended it.

“I believe that, together, we can be strong, but only as strong as we are when we can see past our differences, and focus on what unites us. Because that is what really matters. Love, and acceptance, all above else.”

He fell silent, looking at the crowd with what he hoped was a defiant expression. For a few seconds, no one reacted. But then, slowly, someone far in the back started to clap, only two slow claps. But it was enough to catch on, and before Barry could properly register what was going on, the rest of the townsfolk was joining the person I the back, all trying to outdo each other in the volume of their claps and cheering.

“To King Barry!” someone yelled loudly, and the rest chimed in.

“King Barry! King Barry! King Barry!”

He beamed, his cheeks flushed. He felt Joe stepping beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Well said, son, well said.”

“Thanks,” he said breathlessly.

After the cheering and the chorus had died down, Barry declared the feast to officially begin, and, as quick as he could, he weaseled his way into the crowd, disappearing in the mass of people. He made his way towards Mick’s forge, quietly slipping inside. As expected, Mick was already there, stroking the fire, ready to continue his work. He’s never met quite a workaholic like his best mate.

“Good speech you gave there, Red.”

He donned his cloak in favor of not overheating in the way too hot room. “You think so?”

“Hell yeah. They loved it. I think that secretly, there are way more magics than we know.”

“Of course there are. They are just afraid to express themselves, aren’t they? With all the witch hunts some start at the mention of the word magic.”

“You gotta work on convincing those, too, you know. Not everyone will be pleased. They think that the magics take their rights away. Think they’re cannibals or some shit, coming at night to steal their children.”

He flopped down one of the chairs near Mick’s anvil. “I know. But that’s a mission for another day. First, I gotta make sure this insane winter stops.”

Mick gave him a funny look, but then quickly broke the eye contact in favor of picking up a half-finished sword and putting it into the fire.

“What?”

“’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

“Ha, ha, very convincing,” he deadpanned.

“Nothing that is important right now. You’ve got a whole town to keep happy. Besides, pretty sure you gonna meet with the Council of the Elderly tonight, anyway.”

“How do you know that?”

Mick smirked, and the sudden resemblance to Len was striking.

 _Len_. Who he hadn’t seen since the night two days ago, when—

But it was no good thinking about it now.

“Alright, whatever. But don’t think I’m forgetting this.”

“I’d never.”

Barry got up again, picking up his cloak. Mick pulled the metal from the forge and placed it on the anvil, the hammer already in his hand.

“Just—umm… you don’t know, by any chance, if Len had been here today, do you? To listen to the speech, I mean.”

Mick gave him the same funny look from before, but this time, there was something like pity in his eyes, as well. “No. Sorry, kiddo.”

Did Barry just imagine it or did his voice sound colder than before?

“Oh. Okay, then.” He wrapped the cloak around his shoulders and opened the door. “See you later, if I manage to get away from all those people!”

But Mick was already hammering away on the sword, not hearing him, and not looking up either.


	3. Chapter 3

“Today, on the second day of the seventh month, twenty-four days since the last full moon, ten days since the last new moon, and four more days, until the next full moon will appear on the sky, I declare this emergency meeting for officially to begin.”

Arthur slammed down the large wooden hammer on the desk.

“The issue: the sudden outbreak of a winter in the middle of the summer. Present: The Council of the Elderly, as well as former substitute King Joseph II, and King Bartholomew I. You may begin.”

“It’s obvious that this is what the prophecy has warned us about,” Eleanor immediately said.” We somehow have betrayed the Winter King, and now the Eternal Reign has begun.”

“This legend is nothing but that, a legend. It is not true, just some poem made up to justify the mood swings of the Winter King,” Bathilda yelled at her from the other side of the table.

“Be as it might, the winter is here now, in the middle of the summer.” Percival's voice sounded as if he might suffocate any minute, wheezy and faint. Funnily enough, he was the youngest amongst the group. “We have got to do something about it.”

“We cannot send an envoy of knights,” Barry said. “The Winter King will regard it as a threat, and then be even less willing to cooperate with us. I’d suggest that I’ll go, accompanied by one person at most. I’ll talk to him.”

“Hear, hear,” Percival wheezed, “he is smart, that boy. Especially for his young age.” The others nodded.

“Take more than just one with you, Barry,” Joe said. He looked concerned, a deep line appearing between his brows he hadn’t seen there since Eddie had asked for Iris’s hand two years ago. “You don’t know in what mood the Winter King might be, he could be dangerous. If he attacks you… the people have lost one king already to a tragic death, they’d be devastated to lose you so quickly, too.”

But Barry shook his head. “I can’t. I don’t want him to feel threatened. It’s a diplomatic mission, not one short before declaring war. One person will be enough.”

“And who are you going to take with you?”

“May I suggest?” Arthur piped up. “Mr. Michael Rory, our blacksmith, would be an excellent candidate. He knows his way around the mountains, and I believe he’d be enough of a bodyguard for King Bartholomew.”

Barry beamed at him. “Excellent idea.”

“And when is this all supposed to go down?” Bathilda asked. “It’s been a day since the first snowfall, and there is no sign of stopping.”

“I’d say we wait. There is nothing as dangerous as acting too overtly quick.”

“But if Central is sinking in even more snow—I might have to remember you what happened when King Henry III caused the Winter to come early—”

“It’s not going to go that far,” Barry reassured them. “I’m going to get it handled. The Winter King is just a man, after all, he can be reasoned with.”

“Very well. King Bartholomew is going, taking Michael Rory with him, in—let’s say, five days’ time, before the week is over?”

They all murmured their agreement.

“Good. Glad that’s settled then.”

“While I’m gone, Joe will look over the kingdom and handle all the administrative, along with Prince Eobard from the Southern Isles.”

They all nodded.

“Any more question concerning this issue?” Arthur asked.

They all shook their heads.

“Lovely. Then I declare this meeting as closed.”

 

***

 

The snow didn’t cease over the next few days. In fact, it didn’t stop, not even once, but instead, the snowflakes seemed to grow even thicker. Worry had now swapped over to the townspeople, there wasn’t one of them who didn’t have a look of slight panic on their face. Most of the guests of the coronation had made their journey back to their home countries again, at least those who had come traveling by chariots and horses. Those relying on ships were temporarily forced to stay in Central Kingdom, for the cold hat frozen most of the leashes and sails with no hope of melting.

Meanwhile, Barry and Eobard spend a lot of time helping out those who didn’t have enough firewood stored, or not enough clothes for the cold temperatures. It was good work, and working alongside Eobard felt good. He really was a great help, not even complaining once. When Barry had pointed out to him that he didn’t have to help, that he was just a guest, he had simply looked at him and said, “But I want to.” Barry had melted right there.

On the fifth day after the meeting with the Council, it still snowed as happily as ever. With a heavy heart, Barry went down to Mick’s forge after breakfast and asked him to join him on his mission. Not that Mick had much if a choice, really, since the Council had practically elected him as Barry’s guard and companion, but he still went along gladly.

The kitchens prepared them a large rucksack full of food for the trip, while the maids prepared another one with suitable clothing. Mick brought his own set of matches (or, like, three sets of matches), and dry firewood, along with a tent (although Barry doubted that it was suited for the snow and inevitably wetness, despite what Cisco said about the material water-repellent).

It was noon when they finally had everything ready to depart. Barry bade Joe and Iris goodbye, as well as Eobard, who looked at him a little like a kicked puppy. “I’ll do my best to look after your country, Barry,” he had said in farewell, trying to remain a certain kind of cheerful attitude. “But you’ll be back in no time with the summer restored, I am sure.”

Barry wasn’t so sure, and apparently, neither was Mick.

The first two hours, they walked in silence, with Mick leading the way up a steep path, towards what he called the “Iceberg”, apparently the highest mountain where the Winter King lived in his palace.

The farther they went and the closer they got towards the Iceberg, the thicker became the snow, until they had to practically wade through it, Barry already breaking out in a sweat.

“So,” he panted after a while, “What do you figure caused this?” He gestured around, indicating at the snow.

“Dunno. Winter King’s in a bad mood, probably.”

Barry huffed. “Yeah, I figured. I just wonder why.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Do you know where his castle is?”

“’Course I do. Been up here in the mountains enough times. Besides, it’s probably there where the storm is the thickest.” He pointed forwards, where a lonely mountain stood, a little farther away. You couldn’t even see the peak of the mountain, so thick and dark were the clouds.

“Oh,” Barry said in a small voice.

They both fell silent again. Barry dared to steal a few glances at Mick, and the other looked… determinedly not at him. His face was set, only looking straight ahead.

“Um… Mick?”

“Yes?”

“Are you… mad at me.”

“Yup.”

Um, okay. He had not expected that answer.

“Um… why? Did I say something? Or did I do anything wrong?”

Mick huffed but didn’t answer for a while. Instead, he took a box of matches out, extracting one, and lighting it up. When it had burned down entirely, he turned towards Barry.

“Why did ya agree to marry that Eobard guy? You don’t even know him.”

“I do know him.”

“You met him, like, yesterday.”

Barry sighed, looking over at Mick with a smile. “It’s true love.”

“True love,” Mick deadpanned.

“Yes.” Barry nodded enthusiastically.

“Bullshit.”

“Bull—Mick, trust me.”

He scoffed. “I find it hard to trust someone’s judgment who agreed to marry someone, into another kingdom, just after, what? One date? Did you even go on a date?”

“Well, yeah. Kinda, anyway. We took a long walk through the town and along the beach, all the way to the Eastern Landing. It was so romantic,” Barry gushed. “We were talking for hours. Do you know that feeling when you meet someone and it just—clicks? That’s what Eo and I have. It was like… we’ve known each other forever. Our souls didn’t just meet a week ago.”

“Your souls—oh, fuck no, Barry.”

Barry overheard his objection. “There wasn’t a single thing we couldn’t talk about. No awkward silences, or anything like it. Do you know when, on some dates, you don’t know what to say and there’s just… this uncomfortable staring at each other while you desperately try to think of an interesting topic to talk about?”

“No. I hate people and I hate talking. And I don’t do dates.”

Barry stared at him. “Right, sorry, I forgot.”

“’tis fine.” Mick stopped in his tracks in favor of glaring at Barry. Barry turned around and had to shiver a little from the cold look Mick was giving him. He’s never seen Mick looking so angry, and sad at the same time.

“What’s not fine, however, is that you could be so foolish and so something so stupid like agreeing to that marriage!”

“Why are you so resolutely against me? I am my own fucking person, and I don’t have to run to Joe, or you, or the Winter King for God’s sake to get approval, especially not when it’s about who I’m going to marry! I am the rightful king of the Central Kingdom, and I am very much capable of making good decisions, thank you very much!” He panted, rubbing at his eyes to will away the treacherous sting. “You know, I thought you of all people would be happy for me. You seemed to agree when I said that maybe one day, I’ll meet the one. And now that I’ve found him, you judge him even though you don’t know him, and say he’s evil? That’s just not fair!” A single tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away furiously.

“It’s just—look, kid, I’m _worried_ about you. You know nothing ‘bout this Eobard guy. What if he’s just using you to gain power? He’s prince pretty boy’s little brother, right? Eddie’s as good as married to Iris, so even if he should suddenly die, she’ll be the one to reign over the Southern Isles, not him. And killing both of them would look mighty suspicious.” Mick sighed, his hand coming up to run over his shorn head. “Just… be careful, Red. Maybe he’s not the Prince Charming you want him to be.”

Barry deflated, his shoulders falling forward. He shook his head. “I know, Mick. I’ve thought about it, too. But I know—I just know Eobard’s a good guy. I might seem… naïve, but it’s not that. I know it. I can feel it in my bones. He’s not like that.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

Barry nodded. He was right. He had to be.

But how could someone as good as Eobard be truly evil? With all his interest in science, in medicine, in improving the lives of those who are suffering, suffering under the oppression just for having magic running through their veins, or because they can’t afford the necessary medicine? With all his charity work?

No, Barry believed, truly believed that Eobard was a good man.

Because if he wasn’t, what would that mean for Barry, if he fell for someone evil? What said that about him?

They had started walking along again, the snow getting deeper and deeper the higher up they came. The temperature seemed to drop as well with every meter of altitude they gained.

Snow started to come down again, just a soft drizzle, like tiny, tiny feathers falling down from heaven. But the clouds where still so heavy and dark, blocking all possible sunlight. It might as well have been midnight.

They kept walking for what felt like hours. The wind was blowing hard, and two times Mick had to hold Barry in place before he would have gotten blown away. He knew the castle couldn’t be far anymore, because by now, it was darker than the night during New Moon, and they were walking hip-deep through the snow—threading through the snow. Soon, Barry was even sweating from the effort he had to put into moving forward.

“Hey, Mick,” he asked with a scratchy voice. “I feel like— do you, by any chance, have ever met the Winter King?”

Mick grunted but remained silent otherwise. After a minute or so, Barry already thought he wouldn’t get an answer, when Mick started speaking.

“I met him once during the winter when I was your age. Maybe a little younger even,” he said quietly. “I was on my way back from the mines. It had snowed heavily, and the way back was rough. That’s when I found him.”

“The Winter King?”

“Yup. As old as me, at that time. Well, physically. Probably hundreds of years older. Passed out in the snow.”

Passed out— “What?”

“Yup. Lost control over his powers or something. It was the deathday if his sister, he got a bit emotional. Anyway. I didn’t know it was him, just thought some new kid working up at the mines. Found us a shelter nearby, where I dragged him to. Caught the worst cold of my life. As soon as we were safe from the snow storm that was brewing outside, I got a fire going. Then I passed out. When I woke up, I was at his palace, and the little boy stood before me. He let me stay there until I got better, but made me promise to never tell anyone about it. Seemed to think it would ruin his ice-cold reputation.”

Mick chuckled, and Barry had to smile. “So, the Winter King. He’s just a boy?”

“Nah, he’s been aging since then. Slower than us other human beings, but still. Probably only a decade older than you now, based on his looks.”

“He ages more slowly?”

“Apparently so. But don’t ask me about the science stuff, I have no clue ‘bout that shit. If things go well, he can explain it to you later.”

Barry’s spirits, elated from Mick's little tale, sank again.

“ _If_ things go well.”

Mick gave him the same funny look again he had a few days ago after Barry’s speech to the people. “I’m certain it will. He’s gonna like you.”

Barry smiled, trying to round up some of that positive attitude in himself, but he didn’t quite manage.

They didn’t walk for much longer, which was a good thing, because Barry felt like he could collapse on the (admittedly cold and snowy) ground and sleep for days. The sky was so dark now Barry found himself glad that Mick bad brought his fire along.

Just when he thought they’d had to stop, call it a night, and look for shelter for the night, they took a turn—

And in front of them towered the most beautiful castle Barry had ever seen.

It was downright impressive. Everything was made out of ice, glowing in different shades of blue and silver, depending on how the light was hitting the façade. It wasn’t blunt like a child’s attempt at a sand castle, but richly ornamented, variations of ice crystals and what looked like snow flowers ranking along the front. Barry had to tilt his head all the way back to be able to see the top of the ice castle’s highest tower.

“So that’s where he lives, huh?”

Mick grunted the affirmative.

“Do we… just go in?”

“I’d say you go in first, Red. You’re the king, not me. Better you try to talk to him alone before he gets angered with my presence.”

“What why should he be angered by your presence?”

“Dunno.” Mick glanced sideways for a millisecond. Barry sighed at the obvious lie.

“But I’m a blacksmith, and nowhere a diplomat. And you get farther by talking to the King by yourself. If anything happens, though, just yell, and I’ll come and help.” He gently pushed Barry towards the huge flight of stairs leading to the front gates of the castle.

“Yeah, you might be right about that.” Barry turned around and took a deep breath. His stomach was feeling even more like a bottomless pit, and the feeling of dread now spilling up into his throat, making him want to puke even though he knew nothing would come out because he wasn’t really sick.

“Just… what is going to greet me once I go in there?”

“Ice. Lots of it,” Mick deadpanned.

“Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Mick chuckled. “Chill. You’re gonna do fine. I’m pretty sure the King will be completely taken in by your charm. And it’s not as if he isn’t reasonable.”

Barry pointedly looked at the heavy clouds in the sky that were spitting out thick snowflakes like a child did cherry pips, which Mick answered with an impatient huff.

“Okay. I got this. I got this,” Barry mumbled to himself. He absently wondered if the stairs would be slippery, but to his surprise, he didn’t trip even once.

Up front, the gates looked even more impressive than from the ground. They were at least forty feet tall, just as prettily ornamented as the rest of the castle. The only downside the building had was that there wasn’t a door handle. Or a lock. Or a door knocker or anything like it to inform the Winter King of his presence.

Barry just opened his mouth to shout for Mick to come and help him push them open when suddenly, the gates were swinging inwards on their own accords. From the glimpse Barry caught, the entrance hall was vast, entirely made of ice, and looked fancier than any room he had ever stepped foot in. (Yes, even fancier than the dining room decorated for the royal wedding over at Starling, when King Oliver got married (for the second time)).

Barry turned around to look at Mick again, who motioned him to go on and step inside, signaling him to hurry up.

Carefully, he stepped inside, his head whipping around and trying to take everything in at once. From the left side, a circular staircase led to several upstairs floors, where the chambers, kitchen, and bathing rooms must be located. If there were any. Did he have normal beds, or were they just made out of ice, too? Somehow, Barry couldn’t imagine being something here that wasn’t ice, but the Winter King was just a normal person, after all, so why should this be so different? Did the winter king sleep at all? Or did he just exist? What did he do with all his time? Maybe he didn’t even have to take showers, being able to magic himself clean—could he also control water, or did his powers strictly and only involve ice? And maybe he actually could create lightning bolts, lightning being caused by ice and all that, and if he could… then maybe he could help Barry figure out the mystery of his parents’ murder.

That is if he managed to convince the Winter King to lift the cold he had put upon the Central Kingdom and bring the summer back. And could convince the town folk that maybe, the Winter King wasn’t the villain here, that no magic user really was a villain at all.

If this whole thing would work, then that would be the first, and most important step in his mission to decriminalize those who were hunted by the rest of the world. It would be everything Barry needed to stop the literal witch hunts and end the criminalization of all the magics in his kingdom.

If it worked, and he could convince the Winter King to start an alliance.

His footsteps echoed loudly in the vast entrance hall, magnifying the sound and giving off the impression of this whole palace being even bigger on the inside.

“Um… hello? Sir Winter King? Your Majesty?” His voice echoed just as loudly as his footsteps, and it also must’ve carried up to the highest tower, but even after half a minute, no answer came. “I’m Bar—I’m King Bartholomew of the Central Kingdom, son of Henry and Nora. I came to talk to you!”

Still, no answer came. Slowly, Barry walked towards the staircase, carefully climbing upstairs, with one hand clutching the icy handrail. “We—well, my kingdom sort of has a problem, and you’re, like, the only person who could solve it? It’s, well, it’s supposed to be the middle of the summer, you see. But, somehow, Central is in deep, deep snow, and it’s not unlike the eternal winter described in the legends about you. So, I thought, maybe we did something to upset you?” He had reached the first floor, but no one—nothing, really, except a hallway leading to a balcony that faced the valley—was there. “and, um, that’s why I came. To figure it out, and start a truce of sorts.”

“As if your people want any sort of truce with me.”

The voice came suddenly, cold as ice and cutting through the air like glass. The King spoke slowly, drawled every word out, sharp, but also at ease. Something of the voice sounded incredibly familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“And you just came to make a good first impression as the new king.” It echoed loudly even though he was almost whispering, making it impossible to locate where it was coming from. “All you want is your people to like you. But you don’t care, not really.”

“That’s not true. I do care! My whole life I’ve been trying to advocate for you, stop people to make you out as the bad guy. I’ve been trying to stop all the witch hunts on those who possess magic! And I promise to make changes to the law. People like you are just that—people. You can’t do anything against your powers, they are part of you just like someone’s hair color is a part of them. And that is nothing bad! Please. I’m doing my best, I promise. I’m not here to trick you or take you prisoner, I swear. I just want to talk.”

“And yet you listen to the legends, to all that what people say about me. And here I thought finally a smart king was sitting on that throne.”

The echoes decreased, the voice coming nearer. And without it being distorted like before, the voice suddenly sounded very familiar. Almost like…

“But then again, you agree to marry a stranger, someone you have only met mere hours ago, just because he gives you his attention. And you were so _starving_ for it.”

“How do you…”

But Barry couldn’t finish the sentence. Because suddenly, stepping out of the shadows, was the Winter King.

And the Winter King was no other than Len.

Len, looking the same as ever, the same he had done just a week ago on the day of the coronation. Same silver hair, same blue eyes, same full lips, same strong build that had Barry swooning. Only now, he wasn’t throwing his goddamn smirk at him. Now, his eyes were as cold as the ice that Barry now knew could pour from his fingertips. He was wearing the same black trousers as ever, but his jacket was of an icy blue, in the same style as the castle, as if he had created it himself with the help of his powers.

“Yes, Barry, I know about your engagement to _Eobard_. I believe I don’t need to answer how exactly I came to know.”

“No.” Barry shook his head. It couldn’t be. How was Len… all this time. He had been the Winter King all this time.

“Yes.”

He realized he had been stumbling backward because he tripped, but wasn’t fast enough to catch himself before he fell on his ass.

The Winter King laughed cruelly. “Oh, if you could see your face right now. So full of disbelief, hurt, and _fear_.” He scoffed, bridging the distance between the two of them. “I knew I could rely on your word to rehabilitate me and the others only as long as you hadn’t seen my face.” He crouched down, now being on eye level. “Because then, you would hate me, and gladly join your folk and start hunting me again.”

Maybe the Winter King had said just the wrong thing, or just the right thing, to break Barry out of his stupor. “That’s—that is not true.”

“Oh, it isn’t? What’s the truth then, Your dear Majesty?”

“The truth, Len, is that I _care_! I care about the others, and I care about you. I don’t hate you. I could never.” He sat fully up now, suddenly being closer to the Winter King than he had been before. His eyes fell on his lips. Those lips, that had hunted so many dreams, both during the day and the night. He quickly settled for eye contact again. But the Winter King hadn’t missed it. “I meant what I said. I want to stop the hate on all the magics. I want to make a difference as a king, to make my people be able to live in peace—in peace with each other. And I’m so sorry for whatever it is I did that upset you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, neither the Winter-King-you nor the you I got to know.”

“Is that so?” His expression and voice softened. He tilted his head, now he being the one breaking the eye contact, devouring Barry with just a look. “Well, your words sound so pretty but your face tells a whole other story.” He got up and turned around, walking away. “You’ve never been a good liar, Bartholomew.”

Oh, no. “Len, wait!” He hurried to get up and ran after the Winter King. He tried to stop him, his hand already outstretched to grab him by the shoulder, but thought better of it. Len had never been one for physical contact, and on the rare instances he had allowed it, he had initiated it himself. Barry doubted the Winter King would think any different.

“Please. Just—hear me out. We can talk about this. Give me a chance to convince you that I really don’t mean any harm.”

Leonard stopped in his tracks, looking back over his shoulder, sneering at Barry. “And what if I don’t want to talk to you?”

Hurt washed over Barry, and like a flashback, memories of the time they had spent together, be it at Mick’s, about their boat trip, or during that one evening during last winter, when they had been taking a midnight stroll along the seaside, just the two of them. They had been unknowingly walking right into one of the largest snowstorms Central had seen in the last decade, but miraculously having made it out without so much as a scratch, or anything worse than minor hypothermia.

Now Barry knew why. And he remembered how close they had been that night, how he had felt, how—

He shook his head. “Then that’s okay. I can’t, and I won’t, force you.”

Len turned around, just a little, staring into Barry’s eyes with such an intensity he felt like he was looking right into his soul.

“Fine. You have five minutes.”

Five minutes. “Whew. Okay. So. Since last week, just during the festivities of my coronation, it had suddenly started snowing. A lot. And, mind you, we’re in the middle of the summer, Litha was only three weeks before. And, I thought that somehow, the coronation must’ve upset the Wint—must’ve upset you. We decided to wait, see what happens, but after a week, it’s storming as bad as ever. All of Central is covered in such deep snow. And, I know you don’t like them, but it’s exactly how the legends describe the first few years of the Winter Kings reign. An eternal winter, _nothing else but the cold and ice, even freezing the warmest summer nights_.

“So… yeah. That’s why I decided to come. To see what we did wrong, and to make things better. And ask you if, maybe, you could fix this and bring back the summer?” He looked up again, a little afraid to see the Winter King being angered again, but to his surprise, Len wasn’t looking at him, but staring blankly at a point over his shoulder, disbelieving.

“What you did wrong… It’s nothing that can be changed now. Besides, I don’t want to be standing in the way of true love.”

“Of true… Are talking about Eobard? What does he have to do with all of this?”

Len huffed. “Nothing, Barry. It doesn’t matter.”

“Clearly, it does! Is he… is he the reason for the winter?”

“Why should he be?” His eyes gained a predatory gleam. He took a step closer. Barry’s instincts told him to get back, increase the distance between them, but Len’s look kept him in place as if he was put under a spell. “Why should I care about some second class prince, who is third in line for the throne in some far away kingdom? That is ridiculous.” He turned around again, walking towards the stairs. “Was that all? If yes, then go. You’ve only been wasting my time.”

Barry stared after him incredulously. “Wasting your time?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “What have I done to you, Len, that you act like a total asshole towards me, now? Just a week ago, we’ve been fine! And now, you act as if I’m worth less than the mud under your shoes!”

“Oh, so now all of a sudden you care about me and my feelings?” He shook his head, and the look of contempt on his face hit Barry like a punch, hurting like a knife was rammed through his ribs right into his heart.

“Len, I’ve always cared about your feelings. About you. I still care.” He took a tentative step forward, and when Len didn’t flinch away, he took another, until he had bridged the distance between them.

They were standing so close again Barry could make out the different shades of blue of Len’s irises.  And suddenly, like before a storm on a warm summer’s night, the air between them felt charged. Metaphorical sparks were flying between them, and the heat inside Barry was rising so rapidly he feared he had to take his jacket off to compensate for it, even though the temperature here in Len’s palace must be artic levels of cold.

“Why are you here, Barry?”

“I need your help. After… after you left the celebrations— you were there, right? That’s how you know about the engagement?”

“Of course I was there. You were so freaked out the night before, I wanted to see for myself that you were doing okay.”

Barry gulped. He pushed down the feelings that welled up inside him as hard as he could. “When you left, you took the summer with you. Ever since then, Central has fallen into a deep winter. And… I need you to unfreeze it. Bring back the summer.”

“Is that all you want from me?”

Barry hesitated, sensing that this was almost definitely a trick question, that Len meant something other than just his services to the kingdom. But there was nothing he could do. If only… but no. “I… yes.”

“Then I cannot help you.”

The spell between them was broken.

“What? Why?”

“I can’t. Unfreeze it.”

“Sure you can!”

“No, Barry, I cannot!” Gentle snowflakes started falling from the ceiling. “You may have noticed that my powers lie in creating ice, not unfreezing it!”

“But you always melt the ice when the winter ends and spring starts, don’t you? How is this any different?”

The snowfall increased, Barry suddenly feeling cold. He wrapped his cloak tighter around his body.

Len scoffed, his features turning into a hard mask. “You seem to know your precious legends not as well as I’ve thought. Haven’t they told you that my sister is the one bringing you people your spring and summer?”

No, they did not. In fact, Barry couldn’t remember reading about a sister even once. Nor did Len ever talk about her. If Mick hadn’t mentioned her before, he’d still not know. Or that she had apparently died.

He laughed hollowly. “Of course they didn’t.” He shook his head, spreading his arms. The snow was twirling around him now, caressing his hands, his cheeks. “They killed her. So now, it’s only me left. No more warm summer nights for you. Yes, I think that’s a suitable punishment. You made your bed, now you have to sleep in it.”

“But… who has killed your sister? Why would anyone do that?”

“The same reason you plebeians try to kill me every once in a while. Fear. We’re different, and God forbid anything and anyone who is different can live in peaceful co-existence with you.”

The snow was now rising to be a full-blown storm, the wind rattling the façade, ice creaking. Barry looked up, seeing the large chandelier right above him on the ceiling swinging, groaning.

“I think it’d be best if you were going now, Barry.”

“No, Len, not yet. I can’t… not when we’re like this. I don’t understand—why can’t we just talk and figure things out? I mean, just a week ago, we almost…” He paused. “We were close. Please.”

“Hm, yes, we were. But then you went and decided to marry some stranger from a far-off kingdom, even though you don’t even know him.”

“So this _is_ about Eobard! Why? He’s a great guy, he’s kind, he’s—”

“Oh, spare me. I’m sure he’s Mister Perfect, with his perfect blond hair, with perfect royal blood running through his veins, no trace of magic whatsoever.” He laughed cruelly. “And I really thought you were different. But I guess the prettiest flowers have the deadliest poison.”

“Len, you know I don’t care about that!”

“Oh, you don’t? Then why is it, that after all this time—all this time we spent together, you chose some nitwit fool? Some idiot over—” He stopped abruptly, closing his eyes and taking deep, visible breaths.

“But maybe you need it. You need the attention, the blind love he is offering you. The worship. Isn’t that so? You’re so starving for it, for any kind of attention, you’d take anything thrown your way, even if it was killing you. Just so you can feel loved.”

That stung. Oh, how it stung. It was like Len was ripping his heart out, but slowly, piece by piece pulling it out of his body so the pain was at its maximum.

“You’re not ready to be a king. You’re just a child, playing with toys.”

“Oh, am I not? But you are, or what? You sit here in your high castle, pretending to be some otherworldly god, reigning over the season, when in reality? You’re just hurting, and you let that hurt and anger out on others, like the bully you are, hoping it’ll make you feel better when in reality, nothing except love will ever fill that hole in your chest. Only too bad there’s no one left to love you!”

He knew his words had hit its target. For the briefest of seconds, hurt, so much hurt flickered over Len’s face, so much Barry wanted to take his words back again. But it vanished almost instantly again and was replaced by such a fury, he took a few steps backward out of instinct. Everything in him screamed he should run away, out of reach for Len’s anger, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

The storm turned into a blizzard, hail was whipping around.

“You’re right. My heart is made of ice. Maybe it’s time to finally show you what I’m really capable of., and be the monster you seem to think I am.” Len’s fingers glowed blue, and that was the only warning he got. But it was too late.

Later, Barry wasn’t able to tell what exactly it was that had hit him. Maybe it had been ice, maybe it was just the surge of Len’s power, pure, ice-cold energy. Nonetheless, when he stood before him, he felt like a shard of ice was pushed right into his chest, through his heart. He gasped, looking down, but there was nothing there except his snow-covered clothes.

“Now go. I don’t want to see you again.”

Barry looked up one last time at the man he had grown so fond of. The man whose laugh—when he shared one of his seldom laughs—was enough to brighten his whole day. The man he wanted to see every day, spend his day with, hear his voice, see his smirk, the glimmer of amusement every time Barry did something stupid, like think it was a good idea to cut a butternut squash with a hammer.

He stared up at the Winter King, cold and powerful, full of rage and cold fury.

And Barry turned around and ran away, all the way down, nearly knocking Mick who was standing in the entrance hall.

“What—”

“Let’s just go!”

Mick followed him, and they only stopped when the Winter King’s palace looked small in the distance.

Barry immediately collapsed on the ground, falling into the snow. Just great. The second he allowed himself to properly breathe, tears finally started falling down his cheeks, like a never-ending stream. He lay there for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a few minutes.

“Okay, Red, what happened up there?” Mick asked as soon as he got his breath back.

“It’s Len, Mick. He’s the Winter King. Has been all along,” Barry sobbed.

“Oh, Red.” He flopped down next to him, gently patting his shoulder. “I know.”

“And he—Mick, I think he hates me. Len hates me.”

Mick grunted. “No. I don’t think Mr. Freeze could ever hate you. No one could hate you. You’re like a puppy. And nobody hates puppies.”

Barry let out a laugh at the nickname that turned into a sob. “I don’t know. He seemed so… angry, and… cold. I’ve never met him like this. It’s like we’re strangers. As if all that had happened between us never really did happen. As if I read way too much into all of it. And he said… such _mean_ things.”

“Yeah, I heard you. You didn’t say nice things either.”

A fresh wave of tears made their way out of Barry’s eyes. “I know! And, right now, I wish I could take everything back. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… why did he act like that? We’ve been so… close before, and now it’s like he doesn’t want anything to do with me!”

“Going back now has no use. We should go somewhere safe, get you out of those frozen clothes. And then come back when he has settled down.”

“No.” Barry shook his head vehemently, trying to sit up. Now that he wasn’t running anymore, the cold began to engulf him, making him shiver violently. “I can’t go back to the town with nothing accomplished. What will the others think? My people? The other kings?” He rubbed his sleeves over his eyes, only leaving scratches from the frozen seam. “I failed, Mick. I’m useless, and I’m a terrible king. And on top of that, I’ve failed one of the few people I care about.”

Suddenly, a violent wave of shivers overcame Barry, so badly he nearly collapsed again into the snow if Mick didn’t catch him first.

“Easy there, Re—oh, shit.”

“What?” Barry asked weakly.

“Your hair. It’s turning white.”

“Well, yeah, I’ve just been lying in the snow.”

“Now that’s not what I meant. It’s as white as Lenny’s.”

Oh. “Does it look bad?”

Mick snorted. “No. You still look pretty. But… he struck you, didn’t he?”

“I…” Barry cradled his chest. If he concentrated, he could feel the cold spreading, twirling around like snowflakes. “Yes, he did.”

“Oh, boy. Come on. We need to fix you, or else there will be no one there to soothe Lenny over his petty jealousy bullshit.”

Gently, Mick helped him stand up. Barry was still shivering like mad, now feeling even colder than before. Quickly, Mick shed out of his thick coat and wrapped it around Barry before he could protest. “Follow me. I know someone who can help us.”

Barry just nodded. He turned around for the last time, staring up at the Winter King’s castle. Somehow, it felt like he had just irreversibly damaged his relationship with Len, with no hope of ever fixing of what he had just broken. He imagined Len standing in his castle, and if the weather would be better, he would be standing on that balcony that overlooked the Central Kingdom. And Barry would be standing alongside him, and down in the town, people would celebrate. The thought set a tingling feeling down to his stomach, and a warmth to his heart.

But that was never going to be a reality.

And it wasn’t as if Barry had ever had any profound hope, or wish, that it would be.

Besides, he was going to be married to Eobard.

He just wasn’t so sure anymore if that was what he really wanted.


	4. Chapter 4

Wherever Mick had planned to take Barry, the path had been longer than he had anticipated, and definitely longer than he could handle. With every second he spent out in the cold, he felt his energy draining, his limbs growing heavy and his body turning colder. At some point, Mick had gone over to giving Barry lit matches to hold, hoping the fire would radiate enough warmth for a while to keep him alive. At least until they got to Mick’s “little friends”, as he had called them, apparently the only ones who would be able to really help.

The last few meters, Barry leaned heavily against Mick who had the arm around his waist and was practically carrying him already.

“Just hold on tight, we’re nearly there.”

They walked on and on through the high snow. It had, if that was even possible, only grown worse since they had left Len’s palace. Barry felt miserable, both physically as well as mentally. He never regretted anything as much as he regretting saying those things to Len. He didn’t mean them. Most of them, anyway, but it still didn’t warrant him saying those.

After what felt like forever, Mick announced that they were at the desired place.

They had entered a small clearing that was covered in hundreds of stones in different shapes and sizes. But the oddest thing was that there wasn’t even so much as a single snowflake. The circular space of the clearing was as dry as if it was in the height of summer, while all the trees surrounding it were thickly covered in snow.

“Guys, I’m back. And I brought a friend. We need your help. It’s urgent.”

No one answered, but there was also no one there.

“Um, Mick? Who’re you talking to?”

“My friends. But they’re idiots and pretend to be sleeping. HEY!” he bellowed, glowering angrily at the largest of the stones in the middle of the clearing. “Wake up, you noisy little shits!”

“Oooookay,” Barry murmured. Maybe Mick had also gotten hit by the surge of Len’s power when he was talking to rocks, for Heaven’s sake, and expecting an answer.

But just as Barry was opening his mouth to tell him maybe they should just go and ask Dr. Snow for help, the stones started to… vibrate. And one second later, they weren’t stones at all.

There were tiny little creatures sitting around in the clearing, with gray skin and huge, gray eyes. Some of them wore green dresses that looked like it was made out of moss, others had little necklaces or otherwise jewelry made of fire stones and other glittering gems.

Trolls, Barry realized with a start. They were trolls.

“Oh, my—I thought they were just a myth!”

“Nope. They’re as real as you and me.”

“Wow.”

The largest of trolls came forward. He looked simultaneously the oldest, the hair on the top of his head already gray, and he had a necklace around his head with the largest number of firestones.

“Michael, my son. It’s been too long.”

“Sorry. Work has kept me busy.”

“Have you had any troubles?”

“Nah. I’m fine. I got it under control. If it ever gets bad, I go over to the forge and just keep working.” He shrugged. “It helps.”

The old troll nodded. “And who’s the friend you brought here?”

“That’s freshly crowned King Bartholomew. He had… a little encounter with our frosty friend.”

“Ahh,” the troll said, and several others nodded. “Come here, child.” He indicated Barry to crouch down, which he happily did. He sat down on the grass, his legs nearly collapsing anyway.

“Tell me, child, have you been struck to the heart?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hmm.” The troll looked at him, his expression pensive. Extending one tiny hand, he placed it on Barry’s chest as if feeling for a heartbeat. “Oh, yes. You have been. In more ways than one.”

The other trolls gasped, and like a wildfire, whispers spread among them. But their tone was too hushed and they were speaking too quickly for Barry to understand anything.

“Can you help him?”

The old troll looked up at Mick, worry lining his face. “I’m afraid not. The heart is difficult, and since he’s been touched by the Winter King, the only way to stop the ice from spreading is an act of true love. That’s the only way to save the heart.”

“What if it can’t be stopped?”

“Then, my child, you will turn to ice.”

_Fear not the frost, for it will be your greatest ally._

But how could it be his greatest ally if it was killing him?

“Hurry, Michael. Bring him to the person his heart desires. There isn’t much time left. Fate has chosen another destiny for him, but I’m afraid he might not survive long enough to fulfill it. And it’s vital that he does.”

Mick nodded, his expression grim. Carefully, he picked Barry up, holding him like a little child against his chest. “You still got that old sled somewhere around here?”

“Yes, but no horse, I’m afraid.”

Mick cursed loudly.

“You can do it. I—we believe in you.”

The trolls behind the old troll made room as another one tried to come through. It was visibly smaller and younger, and in its hand, it held a fiery red stone that hung on a simple, black band. Quickly, as if it did that a hundred times a day, it hopped onto the heads of three others, now being nearly as tall as Mick.

“Here,” it said in a high voice, holding out the red firestone necklace. “It’ll help you focus, and give you a little warmth.”

“Thanks, you guys,” Mick said with a hoarse voice. He gave them a last, grim nod before he turned around and started marching out of the clearing and out in the snow, making a beeline for Central Town.

“Mick”, Barry said weakly, “I can walk.” A violent shiver ran through him.

“No, you can’t.”

“I—”

“Stop arguing, alright? I got ya.”

“Thanks.”

“Eh, don’t thank me yet. We haven’t saved you yet. We gotta get you to your true love first.” He snorted. “That is some fairy tale bullshit. But whatever.”

“Eobard,” Barry whispered as it dawned on him. Of course. An act of true love—true love’s kiss.

Mick practically flew through the snow, nearly running, as if it didn’t hinder him in any way. It seemed to melt before he even had to wade through it, leaving a thick swath where he had stepped. Barry had started protesting a few times, but Mick shot him down again, telling him he should save his strength.

At some point, Barry must’ve fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes again, they were already in front of the large gates, Mick demanding entrance. Apparently, the guards had refused because Mick was shouting at them while they took fearful steps backward.

“I have the king, you morons, and he is severely hurt, so let me fucking pass before I’ll have to make you!”

Eventually, the guards caved, but one of them followed them close by as if to see Mick was really just bringing Barry inside the castle.

Eobard was already standing in the courtyard of the castle. Upon seeing Barry, he abruptly stopped his conversation with one of the knights and came running towards them, paling when he saw Barry in Mick's arms.

“I’m okay,” Barry said weakly, but Mick shushed him again.

“He got struck by the Winter King. He’s hurt. Badly.” He looked Eobard square in the eye. “You gotta come with us. We’ll bring him somewhere warm. He’s ice cold.”

Eobard looked pale and a little sick, but he nodded and followed Mick purposefully.

“The Winter King did this to him?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then we’ll have to send our knights out. I’m sorry, Barry,” he added when he saw that Barry wanted to protest, “but that’s what we have to do. He injured you, badly, and he has to be held accountable for what he did.”

“But it’s my fault, I provoked him—”

“Shh, love. Save your strength.”

“No, really, I—”

“I know you don’t want anything to happen to him. Me neither. It’s going to be greatly damaging to any magic, taking the Winter King captive, but it’s what we have to do. Maybe he’s not going to be punished, but he still has to answer to his crime.”

It was wrong, it was so wrong, Barry knew it. But he couldn’t do anything against it, not when he was this weak, not when they didn’t even let him speak. So he remained quiet, hoping that Len could fight them off. He still tried to suppress the fear that welled up inside him, along with the guilt and his worry. It didn’t matter, anyway.

“Bring him to my quarters,” Eobard instructed, “the fire should still be lit.”

Mick nodded, following Eobard’s lead. The fire in his chamber was indeed still going, and it radiated such a comfortable warmth. Carefully, Mick placed him down on the couch that conveniently stood in front of the fireplace.

“Thank you, Mr…”

“Rory, Sir.”

“Thank you. I’ll take over from here.”

Barry heard Mick’s little pause, the hesitation in his voice. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

With a click, the door closed. Somehow, Barry suddenly felt trapped.

Eobard came crouching down next to him. Carefully, he stroked Barry’s hair. “What happened out there?”

“He—he struck me. I provoked him, and then—it’s my fault. Please, quick, you have to kiss me—”

“Kiss you? Barry, don’t you think we should wait?”

“No—I mean, yes—the troll said that only an act of true love can stop the ice. He—I was struck to the heart, and no magic can heal that, except for love.”

A dawning look of understanding appeared on Eobard’s face. Softly, he caressed Barry’s cheeks. “I see.” He smiled down at him, leaning closer… Barry could see the black dots within the blue of his irises… closer even, their lips were only millimeters apart—

“Yes, that would save you, wouldn’t it?”

Confused, Barry opened his eyes. The gentle look in Eobard’s eyes had vanished, and instead, a cold, evil gleam had taken up residence.

“Only too bad there’s no one left who loves you.”

“E—Eobard? What—”

He stood up and moved away from Barry, towards the fire. With his back towards him, he couldn’t see what he was doing. But suddenly, a hissing sound issued from the fire, and the warmth disappeared. With a start, Barry realized he had put the fire out with a can of water that had stood right next to the fireplace.

“Barry, Barry, Barry.”

His voice had lost its soft sound. He sounded hard and unforgiving instead.

Barry tried to sit up, but without the fire spreading its heat, he felt weaker again, shivering.

“I have got to say, it’s really impressive how naïve and _stupid_ you are.”

He came striding towards Barry again, crouching down again, but this time, it was a mocking replacement from before. “Did you really think—I mean, seriously think, that I could love you?” He laughed cruelly. “We’ve only met a few hours before, and all I have to say is that I want to spend the rest of my life with you… and you believe me. You were so starved for attention, I could have told you anything, and still, you’d have agreed.” He pushed a stray strand of hair out of Barry’s face.

Barry was too dumbfounded to move away. How could he… how could Eobard—this couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t be happening.

“You know, I came here with the purpose of marrying. Of finding some king or queen who’d be willing and welcome me into their arms. You see, as second to the throne, I have no chance of ever becoming a king. Not in my country. Father is still too healthy. A heart attack, yes, maybe. But then there’d be Edward.” He spat the name out like it was venom. “But little Boy Wonder has decided to marry. And my parents just _love_ Iris. So, of course, I couldn’t anything to him either.”

All Barry could think about was _no, no, no, no_ , a constant chorus in his head. Disbelief and hurt fought over control inside his head, and the cutting sensation of his heart being ripped out.

“But then, I met you. Still so young, so impressionable. When I asked you to join me on my walk through the city, I hoped to gain a little… beforehand intel on the other guests. Instead, you gave me something so much more valuable—your heart.” He laughed again, this cruel laugh, a perverse distortion from the gentle smile Barry had associated Eobard with.

“And I realized that you, Barry, were the perfect candidate. The perfect prince at my side. That you would be crowned king was only the perfect bonus.” He got up and walked around the couch, standing in front of the large window front.

Carefully, Barry tried to move. His muscles ached and only obeyed him slowly, painfully so. But Eobard didn’t look his way, didn’t realize what Barry was trying to do.

“Now, all I had to do was get rid of you. I had planned on taking more time, getting to know you, and then make your death look like a tragic accident. Maybe even having gone through with the marriage. It’d have made things easier. But you angering this magic user was just—oh, it was perfect. Your recklessness mixed with your hero complex, I didn’t have to do anything else but sit back and watch things unfold.”

_For the savior lies with the devil._

Oh, God. How could he have been so stupid?

 _When the devil shows his true face_.

It was all coming together, making sense in the most terrible way.

Eobard was the devil in the prophecies. He was the two-faced man, responsible for both the Eternal Reign and the war going on. He didn’t want to bring peace between the magic users and the rest. He wanted a war, a war where he would come out on top, the king who brought a terrible peace. He didn’t care which side won, he didn’t care how many people would die. He wanted to win, wanted to be a king, no matter the price.

How could Barry not have seen this sooner? How hadn’t he been able to see past his façade?

“You’ll die here, in the same castle your parents did, but unlike then, I didn’t even have to get my hands dirty.”

It felt like all air was suddenly sucked out of the room. He couldn’t breathe, his chest constricting painfully, his heart hammering away, hoping to provide what was missing. “You—”

Eobard finally turned around, facing Barry. “Have you not figured it out yet?” He smiled evilly, bridging the distance between them until he was standing above Barry, leaning down, his face mere inches away. “Yes, Barry. It was I who killed your parents.”

“No—no, it can’t be—”

“Your father was a weak king. With all his diplomatic work, trying to appease each side—eventually, in vain. But, would you believe… that night, I didn’t come for your parents, originally. I came for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, Barry, I thought that killing you was the ultimate act of gaining power. No crown prince, no next heir to the throne. But I was young and foolish, and I didn’t think things through. It was just my luck I had stumbled upon your parents’ chamber instead of yours—it was as if fate had guided my hand. As if it had been my destiny all along to kill the King and Queen of the Central Kingdom. Because then, you could grow up to become the crown prince you are. I knew I would come back.” He stood up again, towering over him. “Well, here I am.”

“But… why? All just… for power?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You’ve always gotten what you wanted. Even though you didn’t want the throne, you still have it.” He shook his head, chuckling. “You don’t even deserve it. You’re weak. And soon, you are going to die.”

A violent shiver ran through Barry as if the ice inside him had understood Eobard’s words. He felt his energy drain, felt weaker again, colder. He lost any feel he had in his hands, and when he looked down, he saw that his fingers were already frozen blue.

“I’m going to go, I will tell the others that the ice finally got to you, that you froze. I will tell them we managed to exchange our wedding vows before you had passed from this world.” He made a face of deep grief, of pain, and it looked so convincing. “I’ll be the perfect mourning husband. They will thank me for hunting down the Winter King, and they’ll give me a medal for separating his head from his body.”

“N-no, you c-c-can’t…”

“Oh, yes. This minute, the knights are assembling in the courtyard, reading themselves for taking the Winter King capture. He will be charged with high treason and sentenced to death. And I will finally be king.” He laughed, high pitched and sounding maniac.

“But first, my dear husband…” He leaned down, cradling Barry’s face. He tried to move away, trying to not let Eobard touch him, but it was in vain. He was too weak, couldn’t protect himself from what was sure to come, couldn’t do anything.

He couldn’t help Len. He couldn’t save him. Or this kingdom, and its people. He had failed.

Eobard closed the distance between them, pressing his lips onto Barry’s in a cruel kiss. He claimed his mouth, pressing his tongue inside, no matter how hard Barry fought against it.

“Hm,” he said when he finally pulled away, “I could think of so many more things I’d like to do to you than just that. But I think I’ll have to refrain in order to reach my goal.”

Suddenly, he grabbed Barry by the front of his shirt and yanked him painfully off the couch, throwing him onto the floor. He felt a bone in his right side crack, the pain spreading. Before he could register what else was happening, pain exploded in his stomach, then his thorax, then his stomach again. He cried out, pleading it to stop, but all he got was a cruel laugh.

“Goodbye, Bartholomew.”

The door clicked shut. He didn’t even have to lock it to ensure Barry wouldn’t get out. He couldn’t move, feeling the pain everywhere, his libs cold and unresponsive.

Finally, _finally_ , the tears he had been holding back started to flow out, a stream of never-ending rivers. He thought of his parents, of their killer. He had always hoped that one day, he could get justice. But not like this. Not like this.

He thought of Iris, who was going to be related to this… monster, even if it was just by marriage. And suddenly he started to be afraid for her. He knew Eddie, and Eddie was a good guy. But was he really?

He thought of Joe, and Mick, who’d be devastated if he died. But Barry couldn’t stop it. The ice inside of him was twirling and twirling, spreading.

But above all, he thought of Len. Of Len the night before his coronation, how he had taken him on that small boat trip. How he had reassured Barry, soothed his worries. How he had allowed the press of their bodies against each other in that tight space. Of his eyes looking like the entire universe inside one person. How he looked like winter, like cold, but had so much warmth locked up inside of him.

Len, who was going to be hunted down again, chased and captured. Len, who was likely going to be killed.

But Barry wouldn’t be here anymore to witness it. He’d be dead, frozen, killed by the energy that ran through Len’s veins. He knew he had never intended to kill him. No matter how angry he had been, he wouldn’t want to see Barry dead.

For all the things he didn’t know about him, he felt like he knew enough. And yet, it wasn’t enough. It hadn’t been enough. If he had allowed himself to really open up to him, to accept the possibility of being rejected, he might have had a better chance. A better chance of convincing the Winter King. A better chance with Len.

But it was over now. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t fix what he had broken. He couldn’t make sure Len would feel the love he had for him.

He closed his eyes, accepting his fate. The room was cold, colder than before, almost as cold as Len’s palace had been.

He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there on the floor. Maybe only a few minutes. Maybe it had been hours.

Would the others come looking for him?

He closed his eyes.

He didn’t saw an endless nothingness, nor a blinding, welcoming light.

Instead, he saw his mother floating in front of him. It was the same image he had seen in the Whispering Caves when he was sixteen. Nora was there, and yet, it wasn’t quite her.

“My sweet child,” she said to him, her voice the same ethereal tone. “Your time hasn’t come yet.”

“I’m not dead yet?”

She smiled at him and shook her head softly no. “Your mission isn’t over yet. Fate still has something for you to do.”

Fate… “Is it true that it was yours and Dad’s destiny to die at Eobard’s hand?”

“In a way. Fate works in mysterious ways, child. Nothing is as black and white as it seems. There no universal answer to what happens, and what doesn’t.”

“So you could have lived. If I had interrupted him and called for the guards, maybe you could have lived.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s not up to us to change what was foretold. Sometimes things happen, even if they do in a way we least expect them to.”

Like his prophecy. He sighed. “I have to go back, haven’t I?”

She smiled at him again. “We’ll see each other again, my child. In the meantime, be brave. I am already so proud of you.”

Another tear ran down his cheek while he saw her dissolving into thin air.

A soft, warm pulsing near his heart tore him out of his sleep. Absently, he tried to feel what it was. He grabbed a stone shaped thing around his neck, and with a start, he realized it was the necklace with the red firestone the trolls had given him. It was radiating an incredible warm, and it seemed as it had a heartbeat on its own.

Barry smiled. Slowly, and using what felt like all the strength he had left, he managed to get up. He was still shaky on his legs, but, even though it was slow, he could move forward.

He tried to reach the door, but before he had breached the distance, his eyes caught two figures outside in what looked the most terrible snowstorm in the history of Central. One of the two people held a long sword in his hand. The other had a shock of white hair, and they seemed to be the heart of the storm.

 _Len_.

Without really thinking, Barry rushed over to the window, pulling it open. The cold greeted him like an old friend, pulling more energy from him. The tiny heart inside the firestone fluttered furiously, trying to compensate, but Barry felt that his time as limited. He had to get to Len, fast, before Eobard could harm him. And before the firestone was useless against the ice.

He climbed outside the window and glided down the roof. It wasn’t deep, and the snow provided an excellent slide. Once he had landed on the ground, he made his way forward, but every new step became harder than the last.

But he drove himself forward, the distant figures of Eobard and Len growing nearer and nearer until he was so close he could hear their voices over the wind. None of them had noticed him yet.

“You will pay for imprisoning me like that, without having any legal ground to stand on!” Len yelled at Eobard, his hands dangerously clenched at his side. Ice was encasing his hands, as if he was just as second away from hitting Eobard, too. (Not that Barry would have been sorry, at this point.)

“I do have a legal ground! You have been taking in for high treason!” He had taken up his good-guy-façade-voice again, sounding hurt and angry and righteous. Barry tried to go faster, bridge the distance quicker.

“High treason?” Len mocked.

“The King,” Eobard said dramatically with a sob escaping him at the end, “is dead!”

The words seemed to hit Len straight in the face. He stumbled backward, confusion, hurt, anger, and such a deep grief coming over him. “No. He can’t be.”

“He died, in my arms. He exchanged our vows, but then… it was too late. I couldn’t save him!” He cried.

“You are lying!”

Eobard shook his head, edging closer towards Len. “No. He is dead. Dead, because you killed him.” Eobard moved even closer, the grip on his sword increasing. But Len didn’t move, nor did he see the hungry expression on Eobard’s face.

“No…” he whispered.

“Surrender yourself, and no harm will come to you. But fight, and I’ll be forced to kill you. With his dying breath, I vowed Barry to avenge him. And I will.”

It was as if Len was in shock, not really moving, his eyes not seeing.

“It can’t be. Not again.”

“Yes,” Eobard said softly.

Barry had nearly reached them, only a few meters, but still, no one saw him.

Suddenly, the storm fell, and the air was clear. Len still had not moved an inch, the ice on his hands had started to decrease as well. But now, Eobard stood right before him, now raising his sword.

It was as if the world was suddenly slowing down. Barry saw in slow motion how Eobard was pulling his sword back, ready to strike it through Len’s heart. He knew what was going to happen before it actually happened. He decided within a fraction of a second. He surged forward, using up the last remains of his power until he stood between Len and Eobard and in the way of the sword.

“No!” he screamed.

The world resumed at its normal pace. Eobard’s arm surged forward, and with it, his sword. Barry was expecting a piercing feeling in his midsection, but it never came. Instead, he felt his feet freeze, then his legs, his stomach. His hands, his arms, his upper body.

And then, everything was black.

 

***

 

The first thing he felt again was a pair of hands softly cradling his face. Then, he registered a pair of icy blue eyes that were looking fearfully at him.

Then, the rest of his body started to wake up as well.

He stumbled almost instantly, but a strong pair of hands caught him around his waist before he could fall to the ground.

Len was standing before him, holding him, looking wonderfully healthy and unharmed.

“Thank god, you’re okay,” Barry brought out. His voice sounded croaky as if he hadn’t used it in ages.

“Thank—fuck, Barry, you utter idiot!” Len said as he pulled him close and held him in his arms, his embrace warm and strong. “You nearly died! For me! What did you do that for?”

Len’s breath tickled in the crook of his neck, and when he felt Len pulling away, he remembered to wrap his arms around him, too. He didn’t want to let go. Not yet. Not when he had thought he had lost him.

“I couldn’t let you die,” he said.

“You should have! I am not important, Barry, not like you.”

“You are to me.”

“Fuck.” Len pulled away, and before Barry could object again, his hands were caressing his cheeks again, and his lips were on Barry’s.

It took Barry’s breath away. He could hardly register what was happening, and as if on autopilot, his hands flew to Len’s hips, the small of his back, and he kissed Len back, giving everything he got, putting everything he knew he felt about this man in this one kiss. Everything he had tried to suppress, everything he had wanted to tell him so many times. And Len did the same.

When they finally pulled apart Barry was laughing, and so was Len.

“Don’t ever do that again. I’m not worth it.”

“To me, you are.”

Len pulled him close again, this time, his hands fanning over his body as if he wanted to make sure he was actually real and not a fidget of his imagination.

A loud cough behind then made them break apart.

“While I’m very glad you idiots had finally the guts to do something about your feelings,” Mick said, and he was grinning, too, “I’d like to know what to do with this one.” He jerked his head towards the floor, where Eobard lay in a whimpering mess. Blood was oozing out of a nasty cut on his forehead, and he held his stomach as if he was in great pain. Barry had the sneaky suspicion Mick had something to do with it.

He looked down at Eobard. For all his whimpering, his eyes still spouted venom, and Barry knew that, given the chance, he’d kill all of them in their sleep, just out of spite.

“Can you carry him? We should take him in for questioning, make him stand accountable for his crimes against the crown.”

“It’d be my honor to be of service, Your Majesty.”

Mick bent down, when—

“Wait. Let me…” Len crouched down in front of Eobard, looking at him, his expression carefully neutral. “I could kill you, with just a blink of an eye. But I fear Barry wouldn’t approve, and, sadly, I rather care about his opinion.” He smirked. “But I think he won’t have too many objections against this.” He touched first his hands, then his feet, encasing both in a thick layer of ice, making moving and escaping impossible. Eobard screamed, but Barry couldn’t care less.

The way back towards the castle was filled with laughter and a general feeling of relief. Mick merely grunted he was glad both of them survived, but Len and Barry fell back a little, glad for the chance to talk before both of them inevitably would be questioned, too.

“I’m… sorry it took me so long. I wanted to spare you the pain, and in that, I only hurt you more,” he said with a sad look on his face.

“I riled you up. And… I’m sorry. About what I said. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just…”

“Hurting,” Len finished for him. “I apologize, too.”

“How did I… um… I was pretty sure I had turned to ice, the moment before Eobard wanted to impale you.”

Len looked ahead, carefully keeping his face devoid of emotion. But Barry knew now that it was just a mask. Len’s hand clenched on his hip. “You did. Turn to ice.”

“Then… what unfroze me?”

“I did, apparently. I’m not sure how.”

“Did you… kiss me?” He asked carefully.

The hand on his hip clenched again, and Len looked sideways. “Maybe. I… had to try. For the possible chance that… it might…bring you back. If… you felt the same. I didn’t know.”

“Well, for the case it’s unclear… I do feel the same. Obviously.”

“I figured.” He said it in complete deadpan, but a small smile played around his lips. He coughed. “Thawne’s sword shattered upon hitting you. Made him look like the fool he is.”

Barry laughed. “And Mick?”

“Perfect timing. He saw you leaving the castle, and followed. Good thing he did, too. Thawne was looking as if he wanted to shatter you and then claw my eyes out. Mick, um, took care of him.”

Barry laughed again.

“Barry… have you and Thawne…” He trailed off, not finishing his question.

“No. We didn’t share our wedding vows. Or… anything else.”

Len remained silent, but the hand on Barry’s hip had gone from painfully tight to rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

 

***

 

The questions bombarded at them felt endless. Joe and Iris had been fussing over him, then Cisco had stormed in, too, along with Caitlin, who immediately had pulled Barry (and Len as well) along with her to the hospital wing, shutting everyone out while she worked on him.

She did, to her great surprise and fascination, find nothing. So even though she had put up a little protest, she had allowed them to leave.

Iris had only been a little surprised at the reveal that the handsome man from Mick’s was actually the Winter King. “I mean, Mick has a snowflake imprinted on his chest. Also, all the stories about him having met the Winter King and being the only survivor…”

“What?”

Iris had looked at him and shook her head, amused about his apparently bad memory.

Joe, on the other hand, had glowered at Len for most of the time, not trusting him as far as he could throw him. He had agreed to not having Len sent to the dungeons, too, but only because Barry had vouched for him and, well. Barry was the king, after all.

But he had given them both a warning look and said that he didn’t want to hear any wedding proposals any time soon. Barry had blushed furiously, but Len had agreed. The two of them had to sort out a lot before they could think about their future, anyway.

By the order of the King, Eobard was sent to the dungeons, but, because Barry started to feel guilty, was to be taken care of by Dr. Snow. He didn’t want his wounds to infect, despite how much he wished… he didn’t know what he wished. Maybe that they’d never met.

“So…” Barry asked after a while when Joe had ceased with his questioning and worrying, “what do we do about his winter, then?” He turned to Len. “I know you said you can’t undo it. Maybe there’s another way?”

Len gave him an odd look before he took Barry by the hand, leading him outside into the middle of the courtyard. The others followed their step, throwing them curious looks, but Barry shrugged. He didn’t know either what was going on.

Without saying anything else, Len let go of Barry’s hand again, taking a few steps backward until there was enough space between him and the others. Slowly, considering, he raised his hands.

Barry felt Len’s magic flick around him, a soft touch that caressed his skin. Suddenly, he felt way too warm in his thick traveling cloak, so he took it off. And so did the others.

Realization dawned on him. He whipped around, staring at Len, but the other had his eyes closed, his expression one of pure concentration. Barry turned towards the others again, and they all had a variation of round eyes and open mouths, equally amazed.

Slowly, all the snow, though it must have been at least ten foot high, was starting to melt. The temperature around them was rising again, growing warmer and warmer. The clouds in the sky disappeared, and even some birds came out again of where they’d been hiding from the sudden winter, zipping through the sky and chirping happily.

The sudden change in the weather attracted more and more people, everyone, from the old woman working the apothecary, to the baker, the miller, and the stable boy was coming out of their houses and onto the streets, staring at the spectacle around them, and at Len. The few remaining guests were peeking out of the castle windows, looking at each other gleefully.

Soon enough, even the last bit of snow seemed to have molten. It was suddenly silent, as Len let his arms fall down to his sides again and slowly opened his eyes. Every single person was staring at him, waiting, baiting their breath.

An immense feeling of pride rushed through Barry, and he grinned broadly. Len turns his eyes on him, carefully devoid of emotion. But Barry knew him by now, and he knew that the angst and… maybe fear of rejection, of being called names, was bubbling underneath. So he ran up to him, softly taking his hand in his.

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to unfreeze it,” he said so quietly no one else but Len could hear him.

“I didn’t. But you… showed me how.”

“What do you mean?”

“… _When the glaciers within start to melt_.”

Barry still must have had a huge question mark on his face, because Len rolled his eyes at him impatiently.

“My heart. It made me realize not everything has to be frozen forever.”

And Barry understood. Right now, he didn’t want to do anything else but kiss him soundly, but he refrained. Not with all the people watching this public display of affection.

After that, Len had apologized for the sudden winter. He had introduced himself, and all the while, held Barry’s hand firmly, not letting go once. To his great surprise, the town people started to cheer loudly, and a small kid with hair as white as Len’s even came running forward and said that she had actually preferred the winter. Len had crouched down on her height and magicked her a little snowman with a cloud of snowflakes over his head, keeping him alive and frozen. The little girl had squealed in joy and promptly named him “Olaf”.

Eventually, the remaining guests from the coronation all left, too, some more quickly than others. Eddie, however, decided to say for a while, until he had corresponded with his father and decided how to proceed with Eobard.

And then, at last, after a whole day had passed, night fell again, and Barry had never felt so exhausted. He had collapsed in his bed, on the verge of sleep, when Len’s cough at the door had pulled him back.

“While I appreciate the sight of you like that—” damn, that smirk, “I… wanted to say goodbye.”

Barry sat up on his bed. Maybe a little too quickly, when a small wave of dizziness came over him. “What? Why?”

“I gotta sleep somewhere, don’t I?”

Barry bit his lip, considering. He wouldn’t want… but he’d never know if he didn’t ask. “Would you… I mean, I’d get it if you didn’t—”

“Spill it, Red.”

Barry sighed. “You… if you want to, you’re, um. Welcome to stay the night.”

“In the castle?”

“No. Yes. But I meant _here_.” He patted weakly on the bed.

“Oh.” Was that flush coloring Len’s cheeks. “Don’t you think it’s a little… improper? Especially so short after your other engagement ended.”

“I… yeah, you’re right. I just thought—but never mind.”

But Len sighed and came striding over anyways, flopping down onto the bed. What would have looked like ungraceful bouncing in Barry’s case still looked incredibly elegant when Len did it.

“I’m not… very good with people. I can read them easily, but my actions aren’t always that… friendly. But I can see that this is obviously important to you.”

“Yeah. But—don’t feel pressured. You don’t have to, you know, if you don’t want to.”

Len kicked his shoes off and took off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor carelessly. Slowly, he moved to the side of the bed facing the window, where he laid down, his head turned so he could look at Barry. “I want to.”

“Oh. Okay. Because I want to, too.”

“Hm, yes, I figured.”

Barry blushed and hit Len’s arm lightly, but laid down next to him nonetheless. Unlike Len, who had pushed all the covers away, Barry buried himself underneath them, lying on his side so he could look at Len. Stare at him, really. Now that he had the chance, he never wanted to take his eyes off of him ever again.

“There’s still… I wanted to ask you.”

Len glided down a little, so he and Barry were on eye level. They were so close again, the rest of Barry sentence was momentarily forgotten. His eyes were shining like galaxies again, so endless Barry felt like losing himself in them completely.

“You were saying?”

“Oh! Yeah. Mick told me how you have met, and he said you’d been just a young boy back then. You’d have aged since then to be who you are now, but… does that mean you’re immortal? Or just… aging very slowly?” Barry had wondered the whole time, as well as about Len’s sister. But he figured that was a question for another day.

Len sighed, closing his eyes and then focusing on something on Barry’s shoulder. “Yes, and no. Fascinatingly enough, the answer lies within one of your precious legends.”

“Oh?”

“My heart… I was born with magic. My father raised us. Me and my sister. He… let’s just say he wasn’t a good man and good riddance he’s gone. But he taught me how to close my heart. To make it cold. Never letting anyone in. Well, in my case, it was literal.”

“What—your heart was literally frozen?”

“Mhm. Stopped the aging process. Or—slowed it down. It froze completely when Lisa died.”

“Lisa… that’s your sister.”

“Mhm. That was… a long time ago. Two centuries, maybe, I’m not sure. Time passes differently like that.” He paused, fiddling with a loose thread on the collar of Barry’s shirt. “Then I met Mick. It started to unfreeze, even though it was just a little. He was the first friendly person I had met in… a very long time.

“And then I met you. To say you touched me in ways no one else ever did is quite literal.”

And it finally dawned on Barry. “ _When the glaciers within start to melt_. Your heart.”

“Yes. You made my heart melt. When it’s frozen, I could live forever—technically. But like this, I’m just a normal human, with an average lifespan and not so average powers.”

“I made your heart melt.” Hearing Len say those words made his heart melt.

He looked up again, meeting Barry’s eyes and holding his gaze. It made his stomach gave several pleasant jolts. “You did.” The smile he offered him was enough light up the world. Barry’s world, anyway.

“You should sleep. You must be tired.”

“Aren’t you?”

“More so now. I really despise the heat. It’s exhausting.”

Barry snickered. “Then I don’t have to feel guilty for being a blanket hugger and leaving you lying here next to me without any. As long as you’re not going to freeze during the night…?”

“I highly doubt it. But, what can I say? The cold never bothered me anyway.”

Barry snickered again. Len looked at him as if he had hung the moon.

“C’mere.” He pulled Barry closer, so that he was half-lying across his chest, his face buried in Len’s neck.

“Sleep well, my king.” He pressed a soft kiss on the top of Barry’s head.

Barry raised his head, and his eyes locked with Len’s. Carefully, he leaned forward, gently kissing Len back. When the other didn’t move away, he intensified the kiss a little, before pulling away and settling against his chest again.

“Good night, my king,” he replied. “For our love shall never perish again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I hope you all liked it. Kudos and comments are love! *puts a virtual plate of cookies on the table* <3 And come say hi on [tumblr](http://www.itsbrookeks.tumblr.com)! ♥


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